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THAT   NICE    MISS  JAY    PENNE 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL 
IN  LONDON 


BY 


SARA  JEANNETTE   DUNCAN 

AUTHOR    OF    "  A    SOCIAL    DEPARTURE" 


WITH   EIGHTY 
ILLUSTRATIONS 


BY 
F.   H.  TOWNSEND 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1891 


*:  »*f  ««.«»« 


Copyright,  1891, 
By  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


PREFACE 

FOR    THE    OTHER   AMERICANS. 

I  HAVE  written  this  account  onlj  secondarily  and  at  tlie 
instigation  of  publishers,  for  Americans.  Primarily,  I  wrote 
it  for  the  English  people.  I  composed  it  in  their  country ; 
it  was  suggested  by  their  institutions,  and  it  is  addressed  to 
them.  You  will  see,  if  you  read  it,  that  I  had  reasons  for 
doing  this.  The  reasons  are  in  the  first  chapter,  at  the  very 
beginning.  As  you  have  not  far  to  look  for  them,  therefore, 
and  as  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  print  a  thing  twice  in  the 
same  book,  I  will  not  go  over  them  again.  The  object  of  this 
preface  is  chiefly  to  draw  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  I 
am  not  talking  to  you,  dear  compatriot,  so  that  you  will  un- 
derstand that  there  is  no  personal  ground  for  any  annoyance 
you  may  feel  at  what  I  say. 

Notwithstanding  this,  one  of  the  Miss  Wastgoggles,  of 
Boston,  has  already  taken  the  trouble  to  send  me  a  rather 
severely  reproachful  letter  about  my  impressions  and  experi- 
ences, in  which  she  says  that  she  would  have  written  hers,  if 
it  had  ever  occurred  to  her  to  do  so,  very  differently.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  this  is  true.  She  also  begs  me  to  remem- 
ber that  there  are  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  girls  in 
America,  numbers  of  whom  are  brought  up  "  quite  as  they 


483503 


vi  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON, 

are  in  England."  It  is  this  remark  of  liers  that  makes  me 
quote  Miss  Wastgoggles.  I  wisli  to  say  in  connection  witli  it 
that,  while  it  is  unreasonable  to  apologize  for  being  only  one 
kind  of  American  girl,  I  do  not  pretend  to  represent  the  ideas 
of  any  more. 

Mamie  Wick. 

No.  4000  Prairie  Avenue,  Chicago,  Illinois, 
liovember  20,  1890. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

' "  THAT  NICE  MISS  JAY  PENNB  '"  ...  .  .         Frontispiece 

INITIAL  •  I  '         .                  .                  .                  .                  .  ,  .                  .1 

•  THAT   IS   HOW   HE    MADE    HIS    FORTUNE  '     .                  .                  .  .  .         .            3 

'  I   THINK   HE   WILL   RUN '             ,                 .                  .                  .  .  .                  .4 

'  SUE    WAS   TEACHING    SCHOOL   IN    CHICAGO    WHEN    POl'PA    MET  HER '  .         .            5 

'  I   AM   AFRAID   WE    LOOKED   AT    IT    WITH    MORE    INTEREST    THAN    WE    EVER   HAD 

DONE    BEFORE  '        .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .8 

'  WE    SEEMED    TO    GET    ON    TOGETHER   EVEN    MORE    AGREEABLY    AFTER   THAT  '  .  18 

'  WHAT    PUZZLED   ME   WAS,    WHY   HE    SHOULD    HAVE    TAKEN   ANOTHER   CAB  '  .         20 

•"THOSE    DISGUSTING   AMERICAN    GIRLS  "  '  ...  .24 

i  WHERE    SMALL   BOYS   GO    ROUND    ON    ONE    ROLLER    SKATE  '  .  .  .80 

•  FROM  THE  OUTSIDE  I  DIDN't  THINK  MUCH  OF  MRS.  PORTHERIS'S  HOUSE  '  .  34 
'  THEY  SAT  UP  VERY  NICELY  INDEED  '  .  .  .  .  .37 
'  THE  OLD  LADY  GATHERED  HERSELF  UP  AND  LOOKED  AT  ME '  .  .  .  39 
'  IT  WAS  MISS  PURKISS'S  ADDRESS  '  .  .  .  .  ,  .45 
'SPENT  HALF  AN  HOUR  IN  THE  MIDST  OK  MY  TRUNKS  '  .  .  ,  .  46 
'  I  WAITED  FOR  THE  LADY  OF  THE  HOUSE  A  CONSCIOUS  HYPOCRITE  '  .  56 
'  '*  WE    SENT    TWO  "  '              .                   .                   .                   .                   ,                   .                   .  .  66 

•  "  I  CAN  DROP  YOU  ANYWHERE  YOU  LIKE  "  '  .  .  ,  .69 
'  ONE    OF   THE    LADIES   WAS    SITTING     BOLT    UPRIGHT,  WITH    A    STERN,   MAJESTIC 

eye'  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .         .         73 

•  "  THEN    I     LEAVE    YOU,     MISS    WICK,"    SHE     SAID,    "  TO  THIS    LADY — AND    TO 

PROVIDENCE  "  '      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .77 


Vlll 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


*"B1AKE    him   stop    WAOGLING,"    I   CALLED   TO   THE    DRIVBB ' 
"'YOU   HAVE   THE   TOB-BEGANINO  —  THAT    MUST    BE    NICE"'     . 
'SOMEBODY    HE    CALLED    **  DEAB-R-R   HKAR-B-H-t\^^  '' 

•  "  I    WILL   NOT   HAVE    YOU    IN    STRIPES,"    I    HEARD    HIM    SAY '     . 

•  UPSET    A    CHILD    WITH    A    TOPHEAVY    BONNET  '  . 

'  "  PLEASE    HOLD    MY    PARASOL,    MR.    MAFFERTON,  THAT    I    MAY    GET    THE  EXACT 
TRUTH    FOR   MY    PENNY  "  '  .  .  .  .  . 

'  "  WHAT   DO   YOU   THINK   OP   THE   UNDERGROUND  ?  "  ' 

INITIAL  ........ 

•  "  SO   THIS   IS   WILLIAM   THE   CONQUEROR  !  "  '  . 
'LORD    MAFFERTON'        .                 .                 .                 .  . 
'  DISARRANGED    MY    FEATURES   FOR   LIFE  '    . 

'THE    WHOLE    PLACE    SPOKE    OF    ITS    CIIKAPNERS  ' 

'  THAT   GENTLEMAN    IN    THE    CORNER    IS  A  FEATURE    OF    YOUR    0MM15US    SYSTK5I 
I  think'        ........ 

'  THE     YOUNG     WOMAN     CRAWLED     AWAY     WITH    THE    NEGLIGENCE    THAT    BECAME 
THE   DEABEST   PLACE  '         .  .  .  .  .  , 

•  A  PERSON   OP  GREAT   DIGNITY,   IN   HIGH,   BLACK   SLEEVES  ' 
INITIAL  ........ 

'  "  YOU   WICKED   WOMAN  "  * 

•"REMEMBER,    YOUNG    LADY,    THREE-THIRTY       Slutrp"^  , 

INITLLL  •  W  '  . 

•  WE    LOOKED   AT   SHAKESPEARE,    SUPRKIME    A^rOXG    THKM  ' 

«  "  life's   a    jest,   and   ALL   THINGS   SHOW    IX  ;    I    THOUGHT    SO    ONCK,  AND  NOW 
I    KNOW    IT  "  ' 

INITIAL   '  I  '        . 

•  OUR   SPECIAL  CORRESPONDENTS   GLORY   IN    IT  '      .  .  , 
INITIAL    *  L  '       . 

DANCING    LIKE   A   DISJOINTED    FOOT-RULE  '  .  .  .  . 

•"REVERSE?"    HE    SAID;    "l    DON'T    THINK    I   EVER   HEARD    OF    11    "  '    . 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  ix 

PAGR 

'  I   OSTENSIBLY   LOOKED   AT   THE    LANDSCAPE  '            ,                 •                  •                  •         •  182 

'  THEY   WERE   ALL   DIFFERENT    FROM   ANY   AMERICAN    GENTLEMEN  '           .                  .  183 

•  ODDIE    PRATTIE  '  .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .         .  189 

'  WE   DROVE    STRAIGHT    OUT   OF    TOWN    TO   THE    PARADE-GROUND  '                .                  .  194 

^WITH   THEIR   GAY    LITTLE    PENNONS   FLYING'            .                  .                  ,                  .         .  197 

'  WITH    AN   AIR   OF    INQUIRY  '     .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .  203 

'  IT    BEGAN    TO    BE     LIKE     THE    DIALOGUES    IN    THE     OLD-FASHIONED    READING - 

BOOKS '              .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 «                 .                 .         .  207 

•  I   WAS    TAKEN    BY    SURPRISE  '  .                  .                 .                  .                  .                  .                  .  209 

INITIAL  •  L '                .                  ,                  ,                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .         .  211 

•  LADY   BANDOBUST '        .                  .                  .                 .                 .                 ,                  .                  .  212 

'  SHE    WAS   THE    MOST    UNINTERESTED   PERSON    I    HAVE    HAD    THE    PLEASURE    OF 

TALKING   TO   IN    ENGLAND  '       .                 .                  .                 •                  .                  .         .  214 

'MR.    BANGLEY   COFFIN'                 .......  224 

•always,   AS   IF   IN    IRONY,   BY   A   MAN    WHO    SOLI)    GINGKRRREAD  '  .                  .         .  232 

•  AN  ACTRESS  ON  THE  LYRIC  DRAG  GAVE  US  A  VERY  FRANK  AND   FULL-FLAVOURED 

CRITICISM   OP   OUR   DRESSES  '           .                 •                 t                 •                 •                 •  233 

•  I  FELT  AS  IF  I  WERE  IN  CHURCH  '  .  .  *  .  ■  .  240 
INITIAL  'l'.  .  ,  .  .  ,  .  •  .  243 
'  THE   RESPECTABLE    SCOUT                  .                  ,                  «                 •                  *                  .         .  246 

•  A  GENUINE   BISHOP  '  .                 .                 ,                 .                 ,                 .                 .                 .  263 
INITIAL  '  T '               .                 .          ■       ,                 ,                 ,                 •                 .                 .         .  255 
INITIAL  •  M  '       .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 ,                 ,                 .  263 

'  HE    LOOKED   AMUSED   AT    MY   IGNORANCE  *                   ,                  .                  ,                  .         .  267 
INITIAL   ♦  I  '      .                 .                .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 ,                 .272 

'  TWO   TIDY   LITTLE    MAIDS  ".......  275 

•  RnSS   DOROTHY   EXPLAINED    THAT   IT   WAS   A   CURTSEY  '                 .                  .                  .  281 

•  "  WHOEVER    HEARD    OF   ATTENDING  ONE  OF  HER  MAJESTY'S  DRAWING-ROOMS  IN 

A   FROCK    MADE    IN  NEW  YORK  !  "  '         .                  .                 ,                  •                 .         .  285 

•  I   FOUND   THE    CURTSEY    DIFFICULT   AT   FIRST '                  ,                  ,                  ,                  .  289 


X  AX  AMI  RICA       GIRL   IN  LONDON 

.'AGS 
'  \VE    WENT    DOWN    IN    THE    LIFT,    ONE    AT   A   TIME,    WITH    CHARLOTTE    AS    TRAIN- 
BEARER  '  .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  ,                  .                  .                  .  295 

INITIAL   *  P  *               .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 .         .  298 

'  AND    CHAOS    CAME    AGAIN  '          .                  .                  .                  ,                  .                  .                  .  299 

'  IT    WAS   MY   TURN  '               .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 .                 ,         .  305 

*"IP    THIS    IS    MISS  WICK,  I  don't  SEE  WHY    I    SHOULDN'T    HAVE    A    KISS    TOO  "  '  311 

'  EVEN    THEN    HE    LOOKED,    I    REMEMBER,    A    SERIOUS    PERSON  '          .                  .          .  315 

'THE    MISSES    MAFFERTON,    WHO    ACCOMPANIED    ME,    TURNED    QUITE    PALE  '           .  317 

'THE  ladies'   STEWAKD*  .               .               ,               ,               .               .               .        .  320 


AN    AMERICAN    GIRL    IN    LONDON 


AM  an  American  Girl. 
Therefore,  perhaps,  you 
will  not  be  surprised  at 
anything  further  I  may 
have  to  say  for  myself. 
I  have  observed,  since 
I  came  to  England,  that 
this  statement,  made  by 
a  third  person  in  con- 
nection with  any  question  of  my 
own  conduct,  is  always  broadly 
explanatory.      And  as  my  own 
conduct    will    naturally    enter 
more  or  less  into  this  volume, 
I  may  as  well  make  it  in  the 
beginning,  to  save  complications. 

It  may  be  necessary  at  this  point  to  explain  further.  T 
know  that  in  England  an  unmarried  person,  of  my  age,  is  not 
expected  to  talk  much,  especially  about  herself  This  was  a 
little  difficult  for  me  to  understand  at  first,  as  I  have  always 
talked  a  great  deal,  and,  one  might  say,  been  encouraged  to  do 
it ;   but  I  have  at  length  been  brought  to  understand  it.,  and 


2  ' '  ' '  kl^yAM^RJCAN  CrIRl  IN  LONDON 

lately  I  have  spoken  with  becoming  infrequency,  and  chiefly 
about  the  Zoo.  I  find  the  Zoo  to  be  a  subject  which  is  almost 
certain  to  be  received  with  approval ;  and  in  animal  nature  there 
is,  fortunately,  a  good  deal  of  variety.  I  do  not  intend,  how- 
ever, in  this  book,  to  talk  about  the  Zoo,  or  anything  con- 
nected with  it,  but  about  the  general  impressions  and  experiences 
I  have  received  in  your  country ;  and  one  of  my  reasons  for 
departing  from  approved  models  of  discussion  for  young  ladies 
and  striking  out,  as  it  were,  into  subject-matter  on  my  own 
account,  is  that  I  think  you  may  find  it  more  or  less  interesting. 
I  have  noticed  that  you  are  pleased,  over  here,  to  bestow  rather 
more  attention  upon  the  American  Girl  than  upon  any  other  kind 
of  American  that  we  produce.  You  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
form  opinions  about  her — I  have  heard  quantities  of  them.  Her 
behaviour  and  her  bringing-up,  her  idioms  and  her  *  accent' — 
above  all  her  ^  accent ' — have  made  themes  for  you,  and  you  have 
been  good  enough  to  discuss  them — Mr.  James,  in  your  midst, 
correcting  and  modifying  your  impressions — with  a  good  deal  of 
animation,  for  you.  I  observe  that  she  is  almost  the  only 
frivolous  subject  that  ever  gets  into  your  newspapers.  I  have 
become  accustomed  to  meeting  her  there,  usually  at  the  break- 
fast-table, dressed  in  green  satin  and  diamonds.  The  encounter 
had  quite  a  shock  of  novelty  for  me  at  first,  but  that  wore  off  in 
time ;  the  green  satin  and  diamonds  were  so  invariable. 

Being  an  American  girl  myself,  I  do  not,  naturally,  quite  see 
the  reason  of  this,  and  it  is  a  matter  I  feel  a  delicacy  about 
inquiring  into,  on  personal  grounds.  Privately,  I  should  think 
that  the  number  of  us  that  come  over  here  every  summer  to  see 
the  Tower  of  London  and  the  National  Gallery,  and  visit  Strat- 
ford-upon-Avon, to  say  nothing  of  those  who  marry  and  stay  in 
England,  would  have  made  you  familiar  witli  the  kind  of  young 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


women  we  are  long  ago ;  and  to  me  it  is  very  curious  that  you 
should  go  on  talking  about  us.  I  can't  say  that  we  object  very 
much,  because,  while  you  criticise  us  considerably  as  a  class, 
you  are  very  polite  to  us  individually,  and  nobody  minds  being 
criticised  as  a  noun  of  multitude.  But  it  has  occurred  to  me 
that,  since  so  much  is  to  be  said  about  the  American  Girl,  it 
might  be  permissible  for  her  to  say  some  of  it  herself. 

I  have  learned  that  in  England  you  like  to  know  a  great 
deal  about  people  who  are  introduced  to  you — who  their  fathers 
and  mothers  are,  their  grandfathers  and  grandmothers,  and  even 
further  back  than  that. 
So  I  will  gratify  you 
at  once  on  this  point, 
so  far  as  I  am  able.  My 
father  is  Mr.  Joshua 
P.  Wick,  of  Chicago, 
111. — you  may  have 
seen  his  name  in  con- 
nection with  the  bak- 
ing-powder interest  in 
that  city.    That  is  how  .  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^^o^t^^^^  ' 

he  made  his  fortune — 

in  baking-powder ;  as  he  has  often  said,  it  is  to  baking-powder 
that  we  owe  everything.  He  began  by  putting  it  up  in  small 
quantities,  but  it  is  an  article  that  is  so  much  used  in  the 
United  States,  and  ours  was  such  a  very  good  kind,  that  the 
demand  for  it  increased  like  anything ;  and  though  we  have  not 
become  so  rich  as  a  great  many  people  in  America,  it  is  years 
since  poppa  gave  his  personal  superintendence  to  the  business. 
You  will  excuse  my  spelling  it  '  poppa';  I  have  called  him  that 
all  my  life,  and  '  papa '  doesn't  seem  to  mean  anything  to  me. 


4  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

Lately  he  has  devoted  himself  to  politics  ;  he  is  in  Congress  now, 
and  at  the  next  election  momma  particularly  wishes  him  to  run 
for  senator.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  compliance  about  poppa, 
and  I  think  he  will  run. 

Momma  was  a  Miss  Wactgaggle,  of  Bostx)n,  and  she  was 


'  I   THINK   HE    WILL   LUN 


teaching  school  in  Chicago  when  poppa  met  her.  Her  grand- 
father, who  educated  her,  was  a  manufacturer  of  glass  eyes. 
There  are  Wastgaggles  in  Boston  now,  but  they  spell  the  name 
with  one '  g,'  and  lately  they  have  been  wanting  momma  to  write 
hers  '  Mrs.  Wastgagle-Wick ' ;  but  momma  says  that  since  she 
never  liked  the  name  well  enough  to  give  it  to  any  of  her 
children,  she  is  certainly  not  going  to  take  it  again  herself. 
These  Wastgngles  speak  of  our  great-grandfather  as  a  well- 
known  oculist,  and  I  suppose,  in  a  sense,  he  was  one. 


I  /    ^v. 


SHE   WAS    TEACHING    SCHOOL     IN    CHICAGO   WHEN   POPPA    MET   HER' 


6  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

My  father's  father  lived  in  England,  and  was  also  a  manu- 
facturer, poppa  says,  always  adding,  '  in  a  plain  way  ; '  so  I  sup- 
pose whatever  he  made  he  made  himself.  It  may  have  been 
boots,  or  umbrellas,  or  pastry — poppa  never  states ;  though  I 
should  be  disposed  to  think,  from  his  taking  up  the  baking- 
powder  idea,  that  it  was  pastry. 

I  am  sorry  that  I  am  not  able  to  give  you  fuller  satisfaction 
about  my  antecedents.  I  know  that  I  must  have  had  more  than 
I  have  mentioned,  but  my  efforts  to  discover  them — and  I  have 
made  efforts  since  I  decided  to  introduce  myself  to  you — have 
been  entirely  futile.  1  am  inclined  to  think  that  they  were  not 
people  who  achieved  any  great  distinction  in  life ;  but  I  have 
never  held  anything  against  them  on  that  account,  for  I  have  no 
reason  to  believe  that  they  would  not  have  been  distinguished  if 
they  could.  I  cannot  think  that  it  has  ever  been  in  the  nature 
of  the  Wicks,  or  the  Wastgaggles  either,  to  let  the  oppor- 
tunity for  distinction  pass  through  any  criminal  negligence  on 
their  part.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  excuse  them  on  this 
ground,  therefore ;  and  if  I,  who  am  most  intimately  concerned 
in  the  matter,  can  afford  to  do  this,  perhaps  it  is  not  unreason- 
able to  expect  it  of  you. 

In  connections  we  do  better.  A  grand-aunt  of  some  early 
Wastgaggles  was  burned  as  a  witch  in  Salem,  Mass. — a  thing 
very  few  families  can  point  back  to,  even  in  England,  I  should 
think ;  and  a  second  cousin  of  momma's  was  the  first  wife  of  one 
of  our  Presidents.  He  was  a  Democratic  President,  though,  and 
as  poppa  always  votes  the  Republican  ticket,  we  don't  think  much 
of  that.  Besides,  as  we  are  careful  to  point  out  whenever  we 
mention  the  subject,  she  was  in  the  cemetery  years  before  he  was 
in  the  White  House.  And  there  is  Mrs.  Portheris,  of  Half-Moon 
Street,  Hyde  Park,  who  is  poppa's  aunt  by  her  first  marriage. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  7 

We  were  all  coming  at  first,  poppa,  and  momma,  and  I — the 
others  are  still  in  school — and  it  had  appeared  among  the  '  City 
Personals '  of  the  '  Chicago  Tribune '  that  '  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Joshua  P.  Wick,  accompanied  by  Miss  Mamie  Wick ' — I  forgot 
to  say  that  poppa  was  in  the  Civil  War — ^  would  have  a  look  at 
monarchical  institutions  this  summer.'  Our  newspapers  do  get 
hold  of  things  so.  But  just  a  week  before  we  were  to  sail 
something  arose — I  think  it  was  a  political  complication — to  pre- 
vent poppa's  going,  and  momma  is  far  too  much  of  an  invalid  to 
undertake  such  a  journey  without  him.  I  must  say  that  both 
my  parents  are  devoted  to  me,  and  when  I  said  I  thought  I'd 
prefer  going  alone  to  giving  up  the  trip,  neither  of  them  opposed 
it.  Momma  said  she  thought  I  ought  to  have  the  experience, 
because,  though  I'd  been  a  good  deal  in  society  in  Chicago,  she 
didn't  consider  that  that  in  itself  was  enough.  Poppa  said  that 
the  journey  was  really  nothing  nowadays,  and  he  could  easily 
get  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  captain.  Besides,  in  a 
shipful  of  two  or  three  hundred  there  would  be  sure  to  be  some 
pleasant  people  I  could  get  acquainted  with  on  the  voyage. 
Mrs.  Von  Stuvdidyl,  who  lives  next  door  to  us,  and  has  been  to 
Europe  several  times,  suggested  that  I  should  take  a  maid,  and 
momma  rather  liked  the  idea,  but  I  persuaded  her  out  of  it.  I 
couldn't  possibly  have  undertaken  the  care  of  a  maid. 

And  then  we  all  thought  of  Mrs.  Portheris. 

None  of  us  had  ever  seen  her,  and  there  had  been  very  little 
correspondence ;  in  fact,  we  had  not  had  a  letter  from  her  since 
several  years  ago,  when  she  wrote  a  long  one  to  poppa,  some- 
thing about  some  depressed  California  mining  stock,  I  believe, 
which  she  thought  poppa,  as  her  nephew  and  an  American, 
ought  to  take  off  her  hands  before  it  fell  any  lower.  And  I 
remember  that  poppa  obliged  her :  whether  as  an  A merican  or 


S  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

as  her  nephew  I  don't  know.  After  that  she  sent  us  every  year 
a  Christmas  card,  with  an  angel  or  a  bunch  of  forget-me-nots  on 
it,  inscribed,  '  To  my  nephew  and  niece,  Joshua  Peter  and  Mary 
Wick,  and  all  their  dear  ones.'  Her  latest  offering  was  lying  in 
the  card-basket  on  the  table  then,  and  I  am  afraid  we  looked  at 
it  with  more  interest  than  we  had  ever  done  before.     The  '  dear 


I   AM   AFRAID    WE   LOOKED   AT   IT   WITH   MORE   INTEREST   THAN 
WE    EVER   HAD    DONE   BEFORE  ' 


ones '  read  so  sympathetically  that  momma  said  she  knew  we  could 
depend  upon  Mrs.  Portheris  to  take  me  round  and  make  me 
enjoy  myself,  and  she  wanted  to  cable  that  I  was  coming.  But 
poppa  said  No,  his  aunt  must  be  getting  up  in  years  now,  and 
an  elderly  English  lady  might  easily  be  frightened  into  apoplexy 
by  a  cablegram.  It  was  a  pity  there  was  no  time  to  write,  but 
I  must  just  go  and  see  her  immediately,  and  say  that  I  was  the 
daughter  of  Joshua  P.  Wick,  of  Chicago,  and  she  would  be 
certain  to  make  me  feel  at  home  at  once.  But,  as  I  said,  none 
of  us  knew  Mrs.  Portheris. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


II 

JAM  not  tnucli  acquainted  in  New  York,  so  I  had  only  poppa 
and  Mr.  Winterhazel  to  see  me  off.  Mr.  Winterhazel  lives 
there,  and  does  business  in  Wall  Street,  where  he  operates  very 
successfully,  I've  been  told,  for  such  a  young  man.  We  had 
been  the  greatest  friends  and  regular  correspondents  for  three 
or  four  years — our  tastes  in  literature  and  art  were  almost 
exactly  the  same,  and  it  was  a  jnutual  pleasure  to  keep  it  up — 
but  poppa  had  never  met  him  before.  They  were  very  happy  to 
make  each  other's  acquaintance,  though,  and  became  quite  inti- 
mate at  once  ;  they  had  heard  so  much  about  each  other,  they 
said.  We  had  allowed  two  days  before  the  steamer  sailed,  so 
that  I  could  make  some  purchases — New  York  styles  are  so  dif- 
ferent from  Chicago  ones  ;  and,  as  poppa  said  afterwards,  it  was 
very  fortunate  that  ]\Ir.  Winterhazel  was  there.  Otherwise,  I 
should  have  been  obliged  to  go  round  to  the  stores  alone;  for 
poppa  himself  was  so  busy  seeing  people  about  political  matters 
that  he  hadn't  the  thirtieth  part  of  a  second  for  me,  except  at 
meal-times,  and  then  there  was  almost  always  somebody  there. 
London  is  nothing  to  New  York  for  confusion  and  hurry,  and 
until  you  get  accustomed  to  it  the  Elevated  is  apt  to  be  very 
trying  to  your  nerves.  But  Mr.  Winterhazel  was  extremely 
kind,  and  gave  up  his  whole  time  to  me  ;  and  as  he  knew  all 
the  best  stores,  this  put  me  under  the  greatest  obligation  to  him. 
After  dinner  the  first  evening  be  took  me  to  hear  a  gentleman 


so  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

who  was  lecturing  on  the  London  of  Charles  Dickens,  with  a 
stereopticon,  thinking  that,  as  I  was  going  to  London,  it  would  pro- 
bably be  of  interest  to  me — and  it  was.  I  anticipated  your  city 
more  than  ever  afterwards.  Poppa  was  as  disappointed  as  could 
be  that  he  wasn't  able  to  go  with  us  to  the  lecture ;  but  he  said 
that  politics  were  politics,  and  I  suppose  they  are. 

Next  day  I  sailed  from  North  River  Docks,  Pier  No.  2,  a 
fresh  wind  blowing  all  the  harbour  into  short  blue  waves,  with 
the  sun  on  them,  and  poppa  and  Mr.  Winterhazel  taking  ofi 
their  hats  and  waving  their  handkerchiefs  as  long  as  I  could  see 
them.  I  suppose  I  started  for  Great  Britain  with  about  as  many 
comforts  as  most  people  have — poppa  and  Mr.  Winterhazel  had 
almost  filled  my  state-room  with  flowers,  and  I  found  four  pounds 
of  caramels  under  the  lower  berth — but  I  confess,  as  we  steamed 
out  past  Staten  Island,  and  I  saw  the  statue  of  Liberty  getting 
smaller  and  smaller,  and  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean  getting 
bigger  and  bigger,  I  felt  very  much  by  myself  indeed,  and 
began  to  depend  a  good  deal  upon  Mrs.  Portheris. 

As  to  the  caramels,  in  the  next  three  hours  I  gave  the  whole 
of  them  to  the  first  stewardess,  who  was  kind  enough  to  oblige 
me  with  a  lemon. 

Before  leaving  home  I  had  promised  everybody  that  I  would 
keep  a  diary,  and  most  of  the  time  I  did  ;  but  I  find  nothing  at 
all  of  interest  in  it  about  the  first  three  days  of  the  voyage  to 
London.  The  reason  was  that  I  had  no  opportunity  whatever  of 
making  observations.  But  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  I  was 
obliged  to  go  on  deck.  The  stewardess  said  she  couldn't  put  up 
with  it  any  longer,  and  I  would  never  recover  if  I  didn't ;  and  I  was 
very  glad  afterwards  that  I  gave  in.  She  was  a  real  kind-hearted 
stewardess,  I  may  say,  though  her  manner  was  a  little  peremptory. 

I  didn't  find  as  much  sociability  on  deck  as  I  expected.      I 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  il 

should  have  thought  everybody  would  have  been  more  or  less  ac- 
quainted by  that  time,  but,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  gentlemen, 
people  were  standing  or  sitting  round  in  the  same  little  knots 
they  came  on  board  in.  And  yet  it  was  very  smooth.  I  was 
so  perfectly  delighted  to  be  well  again  that  I  felt  I  must  talk  to 
somebody,  so  I  spoke  to  one  of  a  party  of  ladies  from  Boston 
who  I  thought  might  know  the  Wastgagles  there.  I  was  very 
polite,  and  she  did  not  seem  at  all  sea-sick,  but  I  found  it 
difficult  to  open  up  a  conversation  with  her.  I  knew  that  the 
Bostonians  thought  a  good  deal  of  themselves — all  the  Wast- 
gagles do — and  her  manner  somehow  made  me  think  of  a  story 
I  once  heard  of  a  Massachusetts  milestone,  marked  '  1  m.  from 
Boston,'  which  somebody  thought  was  a  wayside  tablet  with  the 
simple  pathetic  epitaph,  '  I'm  from  Boston,'  on  it ;  and  just  to 
enliven  her  I  told  her  the  story.  *  Indeed  ! '  she  said.  '  Well, 
we  are  from  Boston.' 

I  didn't  quite  know  what  to  do  after  that,  for  the  only  other 
lady  near  me  was  English,  I  knew  by  her  boots.  Beside  the 
boots  she  had  grey  hair  and  pink  cheeks,  and  rather  sharp  grey 
eyes,  and  a  large  old-fashioned  muff,  and  a  red  cloud.  Only  an 
Englishwoman  would  be  wearing  a  muff  and  a  cloud  like  that  in 
public — nobody  else  would  dare  to  do  it.  She  was  rather  portly, 
and  she  sat  very  firmly  and  comfortably  in  her  chair  with  her 
feet  crossed,  done  up  in  a  big  Scotch  rug,  and  being  an  English- 
woman I  knew  that  she  would  not  expect  anybody  to  speak  to 
her  who  had  not  been  introduced.  She  would  probably,  I 
thought,  give  me  a  haughty  stare,  as  they  do  in  novels,  and  say, 
with  cold  repression,  '  You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  miss  ! ' — 
and  then  what  would  my  feelings  be  ?  So  I  made  no  more  ad- 
vances to  anybody,  but  walked  off  my  high  spirits  on  the  hurri- 
cane-deck,  thinking  about  the  exclusiveness  of  those  Bostonians, 


12  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

and  wondering  whether,  as  a  nation,  we  could  be  catching  it 
from  England. 

You  may  imagine  my  feelings — or  rather,  as  you  are  probably 
English,  you  can't  —when  the  head  steward  gave  me  my  place 
at  the  dinner-table  immediately  opposite  the  Bostonians,  and 
between  this  lady  and  an  unknown  gentleman.  '  I  shall  not 
make  a  single  travelling  acquaintance  ! '  I  said  to  myself  as  I  sat 
down — and  I  must  say  I  was  disappointed.  I  began  to  realise 
how  greatly  we  had  all  unconsciously  depended  upon  my  forming 
nice  travelling  acquaintances,  as  people  always  do  in  books,  to 
make  the  trip  pleasant,  and  I  thought  that  in  considering  an- 
other voyage  I  should  divorce  myself  from  that  idea  beforehand. 
However,  I  said  nothing,  of  course,  and  found  a  certain  amount 
of  comfort  in  my  soup. 

I  remember  the  courses  of  that  dinner  very  well,  and  if  they 
were  calculated  to  niake  interesting  literary  matter  I  could  write 
them  out.  The  Bostonians  ostentatiously  occupied  themselves 
with  one  another.  One  of  them  took  up  a  position  several  miles 
behind  her  spectacles,  looked  at  me  through  them,  and  then  said 
something  to  her  neighbour  about  '  Daisy  Miller,'  which  the 
neighbour  agreed  to.  I  know  what  they  meant  now.  The 
gentleman,  when  he  was  not  attending  to  his  dinner,  stared  at 
the  salt-cellar  most  of  the  time,  in  a  blark,  abstracted  way  ;  and 
the  English  lady,  who  looked  much  nicer  unshelled  than  she  did 
on  deck,  kept  her  head  carefully  turned  in  the  other  direction, 
and  made  occasional  remarks  to  an  elderly  person  next  her  who 
was  very  deaf.  If  I  had  not  been  hungry,  I  don't  know  how  I 
should  have  felt.  But  I  maintained  an  absolute  silence  and  ato 
my  dinner. 

Gradually — perhaps  because  the  elderly  person  was  so 
extremely  deaf,  and  my  own  behaviour  comparatively  unaggrcs- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  13 

sive — the  lady  of  England  began  to  assume  a  less  uncomfortable 
position.  A  certain  repellent  air  went  out  of  her  right  shoulder. 
Presently  she  sat  quite  parallel  with  the  table.  By  the  advent 
of  the  pudding — it  was  cabinet  pudding — I  had  become  con- 
scious that  she  had  looked  at  me  casually  three  times.  When 
the  Gorgonzola  appeared  I  refused  it.  In  America  ladies  eat 
very  little  Gorgonzola. 

'  Don't  you  like  cheese  ? '  she  said,  suddenly,  a  little  as  if  I 
had  offended  her.  I  was  so  startled  that  I  equivocated  some- 
what. 

'  No'm,  net  to  day,  I  think — thank  you  ! '  I  said.  The  fact 
is,  I  never  touch  it. 

'  Oh  ! '  she  responded.  '  But  then,  this  is  your  first  ap- 
pearance, I  suppose  ?  In  that  case,  you  wouldn't  like  it.'  And 
I  felt  forgiven. 

She  said  nothing  more  until  dessert,  and  then  she  startled 
me  again.     '  Have  you  been  bad  ? '  she  inquired. 

I  didn't  know  quite  what  to  say,  it  seemed  such  an  extia- 
ordinary  question,  but  it  flashed  upon  me  that  perhaps  the  lady 
was  some  kind  of  missionary,  in  which  case  it  was  my  duty  to 
be  respectful.  So  I  said  that  I  hoped  not — that  at  least  1 
hadn't  been  told  so  since  I  was  a  very  little  girl.  '  But  then,' 
I  said,  '  The  Episcopalian  Prayer-book  says  we're  all  miserable 
sinners,  doesn't  it  ?  '     The  lady  looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

'  What  has  the  Prayer-book  to  do  with  your  being  ill  ? ' 
she  exclaimed.  '  Oh,  I  see  ! '  and  she  laughed  very  heartily. 
*  You  thought  I  meant  naughty  !  Cross-questions  and  crooked 
answers!  Mr.  Mafferton,  you  will  appreciate  this!'  ls\v. 
Mafferton  was  the  gentleman  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  con- 
nection with  the  salt-cellars ;  and  my  other  neighbour  seemed 
to  know  him,  which,  as  they  both  came  from  England,  did  not 


14  AN  A  ^f  ERIC  AN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

surprise  me  then,  although  now  I  should  be  inclined  to  consider 
that  the  most  likely  reason  of  all  why  they  shouldn't  be  ac- 
quainted. I  didn't  see  anything  so  very  humorous  in  it,  but 
the  lady  explained  our  misunderstanding  to  Mr.  Mafferton  as  if 
it  were  the  greatest  joke  imaginable,  and  she  had  made  it 
herself.  '  Really,'  she  said,  '  it's  good  enough  for  "  Punch  ! ' " 
I  was  unfamiliar  with  that  paper  then,  and  couldn't  say  ;  but 
now  I  think  it  was  myself. 

Mr.  Mafferton  coloured  dreadfully — I  omitted  to  say  that  he 
was  a  youngish  gentleman — and  listened  with  a  sort  of  strained 
smile,  which  debouched  into  a  hesitating  and  uncomfortable 
remark  about  *  curious  differences  in  idioms.'  I  thought  he 
intended  it  to  be  polite,  and  he  said  it  in  the  most  agreeable 
man's  voice  I  had  ever  heard ;  but  I  could  not  imagine  what 
there  was  to  flurry  him  so,  and  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  him.  And 
he  had  hardly  time  to  get  safely  back  to  the  salt-cellar  before  we 
all  got  up. 

Next  morning  at  breakfast  I  got  on  beautifully  with  the 
English  lady,  who  hardly  talked  to  the  elderly  deaf  person  at  all, 
but  was  kind  enough  to  be  very  much  interested  in  what  I 
expected  to  see  in  London.  '  Your  friends  will  have  their 
hands  full,'  she  remarked,  with  a  sort  of  kind  acerbity,  '  if 
they  undertake  to  show  you  all  that ! '  I  thought  of  poor  old 
Mrs.  Portheris,  who  was  probably  a  martyr  to  rheumatism  and 
neuralgia,  with  some  compunction.  '  Oh  ! '  I  said,  '  I  shouldn't 
think  of  asking  them  to  ;  I'll  read  it  all  up,  and  then  I  can  go 
round  beautifully  by  myself!' 

'  By  yourself!^  she  exclaimed.  'You!  This  is  an  inde- 
pendent American  young  lady — the  very  person  I  went  espe- 
cially to  the  United  States  to  see,  and  spent  a  whole  season  in 
New  York,  going  everywhere,  without  coming  across  a  single 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  15 

Bpecimen !  You  must  excuse  my  staring  at  you.  But  you'll 
have  to  get  over  that  idea.  Your  friends  will  never  in  the  world 
allow  it — I  suppose  you  Ificbve  friends  ? ' 

'  No,'  I  said  ;  '  only  a  relation.' 

The  lady  laughed.  '  Do  you  intend  that  for  a  joke  ? '  she 
asked.  '  Well,  they  do  mean  different  things  sometimes.  But 
we'll  see  what  the  relation  will  have  to  say  to  it.' 

Mr.  Mafferton  occasionally  removed  his  eyes  from  the  salt- 
cellar during  this  meal,  and  even  ventured  a  remark  or  two. 
The  remarks  were  not  striking  in  any  way — ^there  was  no  food 
for  thought  in  them  whatever ;  yet  they  were  very  agreeable. 
Whether  it  was  Mr.  Mafferton's  voice,  or  his  manner,  or  his 
almost  apologetic  way  of  speaking,  as  if  he  knew  that  he  was 
not  properly  acquainted,  and  ought  not  to  do  it,  I  don't  know, 
but  I  liked  hearing  him  make  them.  It  was  not,  however, 
until  later  in  the  day,  when  I  was  sitting  on  deck  talking  with 
the  lady  from  England  about  New  York,  where  she  didn't  seem 
to  like  anything  but  the  air  and  the  melons,  that  I  felt  the  least 
bit  acquainted  with  Mr.  Mafferton.  I  had  found  out  her  name, 
by  the  way.  She  asked  me  mine,  and  when  I  told  her  she  said  : 
'  But  you're  old  enough  now  to  have  a  Christian  name — weren't 
you  christened  Mary  ? '  She  went  on  to  say  that  she  believed 
in  the  good  old-fashioned  names,  like  Nancy  and  Betsy,  that 
couldn't  be  babified — and  I  am  not  sure  whether  she  told  me,  or 
it  was  by  intuition,  that  I  learned  that  hers  was  Hephzibah.  It 
seems  to  me  now  that  it  never  could  have  been  anything  else. 
But  I  am  quite  certain  she  added  that  her  husband  was  Hector 
Torquilin,  and  that  he  had  been  dead  fifteen  years.  '  A  dis- 
tinguished man  in  his  time,  my  dear,  as  you  would  know  if  you 
had  been  brought  up  in  an  English  schoolroom.'  And  just  then, 
while  I  was  wondering  what  would  be  the  most  appropriate  thing 


i6  AN  AMERICAN   GIRL   IN  LONDON 

to  say  to  a  lady  who  told  you  that  her  husband  had  been  dead 
fifteen  years,  and  was  a  distinguished  man  in  his  time,  and 
wishing  that  I  had  been  brought  up  in  an  English  schoolroom, 
so  that  I  could  be  polite  about  him,  Mr.  Mafferton  came  up. 
He  had  one  of  Mr.  W.  D.  Howells'  novels  in  his  hand,  and  at 
once  we  glided  into  the  subject  of  American  literature.  I  re 
member  I  was  surprised  to  find  an  Englishman  so  good-naturt'd 
in  his  admiration  of  some  of  our  authors,  and  so  willing  to  con 
cede  an  American  standard  which  might  be  a  high  one,  and  yet 
have  nothing  to  do  with  Dickens,  and  so  appreciative  generally 
of  the  conditions  which  have  brought  about  our  ways  of  thinking 
and  writing.  We  had  a  most  delightful  conversation— I  had 
no  idea  there  was  so  much  in  Mr.  ^lafferton — and  Mrs.  Torquilin 
only  interrupted  once.  That  was  to  ask  us  if  either  of  us  had 
ever  read  the  works  of  Fenimore  Cooper,  who  was  about  the 
only  author  America  had  ever  produced.  Neither  of  us  had,  and  1 
said  1  thought  there  were  some  others.  '  Well,'  she  said,  '  he 
is  the  only  one  we  ever  hear  of  in  England.'  But  I  don't  think 
Mrs.  Torquilin  was  quite  correct  in  this  statement,  because  since 
I  have  been  in  England  I  have  met  three  or  four  people,  beside 
Mr.  Mafferton,  who  knew,  or  at  least  had  heard  of,  several 
American  writers.  Then  Mrs.  Torquilin  went  to  sleep,  and 
when  she  woke  up  it  was  five  o'clock,  and  her  maid  was  just 
arriving  with  her  tea.  Mr.  Mafferton  asked  me  if  he  might  get 
me  some,  but  I  said.  No,  thanks ;  I  thought  I  would  take  a 
brisk  walk  instead,  if  Mrs.  Torquilin  would  excuse  me. 

*  Certainly,'  she  said  ;  '  go  and  take  some  exercise,  both  of 
you.  It's  much  better  for  young  people  than  tea-drinking. 
And  see  here,  my  dear !  I  thought  you  were  very  sensible  not 
to  dress  for  dinner  last  night,  like  those  silly  young  fools  oppo- 
site.    Silly  young  fools  I  call  them.     Now,  take  my  advice,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  17 

don't  let  them  persuade  you  to  do  it.  An  Atlantic  steamer  is 
no  place  for  bare  arms.  Now  run  away,  and  have  your  walk, 
and  Mr.  Mafferton  will  see  that  you're  not  blown  overboard.' 

Mr.  Mafferton  hesitated  a  moment.  '  Are  you  quite  sure, 
he  said,  '  that  you  wouldn't  prefer  the  tea  ?  ' 

'  Oh  yes,  sir  ! '  I  said;  '  we  always  have  tea  at  half-past  six 
at  home,  and  I  don't  care  about  it  so  early  as  this.  I'd  much 
rather  walk.  But  don't  trouble  to  come  with  me  if  yon  would 
like  some  tea.' 

'  I'll  come,'  he  said,  *  if  you  won't  call  me  ''  sir."  *  Here  he 
frowned  a  little  and  coloured.  *  It  makes  one  feel  seventy,  you 
know.     May  I  ask  why  you  do  it  ?  ' 

I  explained  that  in  Chicago  it  was  considered  polite  to  say 
*  ma'am '  or  '  sir '  to  a  lady  or  gentleman  of  any  age  with  whom 
you  did  not  happen  to  be  very  well  acquainted,  and  I  had  heard 
it  all  my  life ;  still,  if  he  objected  to  it,  I  would  not  use  it  in  his 
case. 

He  said  he  thought  he  did  object  to  it — from  a  lady ;  it  had 
other  associations  in  his  ears. 

So  I  stopped  calling  Mr.  INIafFerton  'sir';  and  since  then, 
except  to  very  old  gentlemen,  I  have  got  out  of  the  way  of  using 
the  expression.  I  asked  him  if  there  was  anything  else  that 
struck  him  as  odd  in  my  conversation  kindly  to  tell  me,  as  of 
course  I  did  not  wish  to  be  an  unnecessary  shock  to  my  relation 
in  Half-Moon  Street.  He  did  not  say  he  would,  but  we  seemed 
to  get  on  together  even  more  agreeably  after  that. 

Mr.  Mafferton  appeared  to  know  nobody  on  board  but  Mrs. 
Torquilin ;  and  I  made  acquaintance  with  hardly  anybody  else, 
so  that  we  naturally  saw  a  good  deal  of  each  other,  usually  in 
the  afternoons,  walking  up  and  down  the  deck.  He  lent  me  all 
his  books,  and  I  lent  him  all  mine,  and  we  exchanged  opinions  on 


i8 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


a  great  variety  of  subjects.  When  we  argued,  he  was  always 
very  polite  and  considerate;  but  I  noticed  one  curious  thing 
about  him — I  never  could  bring  him  round  to  my  point  of  view. 
He  did  not  seem  to  see  the  necessity  of  coming,  although  I  often 


*  WE  SEEMED  TO  GET  ON  TOGETHER  EVEN  MORE  AGREEABLY  AFTER  THAT  ' 

went  round  to  his.  This  was  a  new  experience  to  me  in  arguing 
with  a  gentleman.  And  he  always  talked  very  impersonally. 
At  first  this  struck  me  as  a  little  cold  and  uninterested,  but 
afterwards  I  liked  it.     It  was  like  drinking  a  very  nice  kind  of 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  19 

pure  cold  water — after  the  different  flavours  of  personality  I  had 
always  been  accustomed  to.  Mr.  Mafferton  only  made  one 
exception  to  this  rule  that  I  remember,  and  that  was  the  after- 
noon before  we  landed.  Then  he  told  me  particularly  about  his 
father  and  mother,  and  their  tastes  and  occupations,  also  the 
names  and  ages  of  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  their  tastes  and 
occupations,  and  where  he  lived.  But  I  cannot  say  I  found  him 
as  interesting  that  afternoon  as  usual. 

I  need  not  describe  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  landing  at 
Liverpool  Docks  in  the  middle  of  a  wet  April  afternoon.  Mrs. 
Torquilin  had  told  me  at  breakfast  not  on  any  account  to  let 
my  relations  take  me  away  before  she  had  given  me  her  address ; 
but  when  the  time  came  I  guess — if  you  will  allow  me — she 
must  have  forgotten,  because  the  last  time  I  saw  her  she  was 
standing  under  a  very  big  umbrella,  which  the  maid  held  over 
her,  a  good  deal  excited,  and  giving  a  great  many  orders  about 
her  luggage  to  a  nervous-looking  man  in  livery. 

I  easily  identified  mine,  and  got  off'  by  train  for  London 
without  any  trouble  to  speak  of.  We  arrived  rather  late,  though, 
and  it  was  still  pouring. 

'•  What  has  become  of  your  people  ? '  asked  somebody  at  my 
elbow.  I  turned  and  saw  Mr.  Mafferton,  who  must  have  come 
down  by  the  same  train. 

*  I  didn't  expect  my  relation  to  meet  me,'  I  said ;  'she  doesn't 
expect  me ! ' 

'  Oh  ! '  said  Mr.  Mafferton ;  '  you  did  not  write  to  her  before 
you  sailed  ? ' 

*  No,'  I  said.     *  There  wasn't  time.' 

*  Upon  my  word ! '  said  Mr.  Mafferton.  Then,  as  T  suppose 
r  looked  rather  surprised,  he  added,  hastily  :  '  I  only  mean  that 
it  seems  so — so  uncommonly  extraordinary,  you  know !     But  I 


so 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


would  advise  you,  in  that  case,  to  give  the  bulk  of  your  luggage 
into  the  hands  of  the  forwarding  agents,  with  instructions  to  send 
it  early  to-morrow  to  your  friend's 
address.  It  is  all  you  can  do  to- 
night,' said  Mr.  Mafferton,  '  really. 
Ot  course,  you  will  go  there  imme- 
diately yourself.' 

'No,'  I  responded,  firmly;  'I 
think  not,  Mr.  Mafferton.  My  rela- 
tion is  very  elderly,  and  probably  in 
bad  health.  For  all  I  know,  she  may 
have  gone  to  bed.    I  must  not  dis- 


■  WHAT    PUZZLED    ME    WAS,    WHY    HE    SHOULD    HAVE    TAKEN   ANOTHER   CAB  ' 


turb  her  so  late.  All  the  people  I  have  ever  known  have  stayed 
at  the  "  M^tropole  "  in  London.  I  will  go  to  the  Metropole  for 
to-night,  and  have  my  things  sent  there.     To-morrow  I  will  go 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  21 

and  see  my  relation,  and  if  she  asks  me  to  visit  her  I  can  easily 
telephone  up  for  them.     Thank  you  very  much/ 

Mr.  MafFerton  looked  as  sober  as  possible,  if  not  a  little 
annoyed.  Then  he  went  and  got  the  agent's  young  man,  and 
asked  me  to  poiut  out  my  things  to  him,  which  I  did,  and  got 
receipts.  Then  he  told  a  porter  to  call  a  cab,  and  put  my  smaller 
valises  into  it.  *  I  will  put  you  in,'  he  said,  and  he  gave  me  his 
arm  and  his  umbrella,  through  the  wettest  rain  I  have  ever 
experienced,  to  the  hansom.  I  thanked  him  again  very  cordially, 
and  before  he  said  good-bye  he  very  kindly  gave  me  his  card 
and  address,  and  begged  me  to  let  him  know  if  there  was  any- 
thing he  could  do  for  me. 

Then  I  rattled  away  through  the  blurred  lights  of  your  inter- 
minable twisted  streets  to  the  Metropole,  fancying  I  saw  West- 
minster Abbey  or  St.  Paul's  through  the  rain  at  every  turn. 

When  we  stopped  at  last  before  the  hotel,  another  hansom 
behind  us  stopped  too,  and  though  I  am  sure  he  didn't  intend 
me  to,  I  saw  quite  plainly  through  the  glass — Mr.  Mafferton. 
It  was  extremely  kind  of  him  to  wish  to  be  of  assistance  to  a 
lady  alone,  especially  in  such  weather,  and  I  could  easily  under- 
stand his  desire  to  see  me  to  my  hotel ;  but  what  puzzled  me 
wa«!,  why  he  should  have  taken  another  cab ! 

And  all  night  long  I  dreamed  of  Mrs.  Portheri.9. 


21  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


m 

I  ONCE  visited  the  Wastgagles  in  Boston  with  momma.  It  wai= 
a  visit  of  condolence,  just  after  the  demise  of  a  grandmother 
of  theirs.  I  was  going  to  say,  that  never  since  that  occasion  had 
I  experienced  anything  like  the  solemnity  of  my  breakfast  at 
the  Metropole  the  morning  after  I  arrived.  As  a  sad-faced 
waiter  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  marshalled  me  across  the  room 
to  an  empty  little  white-and-silvery  table  beside  one  of  the  big 
windows,  I  felt,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  that  I  was  being 
made  imposing,  and  I  objected  to  the  feeling.  The  place  itself 
did  not  impress  me  particularly — in  America  we  are  accustomed 
to  gorgeousness  in  our  hotels,  and  the  mirrors  and  the  gilding 
of  the  Metropole  rather  made  me  feel  at  home  than  otherwise ; 
but  it  was  the  demeanour  of  everything  that  weighed  upon  me. 
My  very  chair  lived  up  to  its  own  standard  of  decorum ;  and 
the  table  seemed  laid  upon  a  pattern  of  propriety  that  it  would 
never  willingly  depart  from.  There  was  an  all-pervading  sense 
of  order  in  the  air.  I  couldn't  make  out  exactly  where  it  came 
from,  but  it  was  there,  and  it  was  fearful.  The  waiters  spoke 
to  each  other  in  low  tones,  as  if  something  of  deep  and  serious 
importance  were  going  on ;  and  when  I  told  one  of  them  what 
I  should  like  from  the  bill-of-fare,  he  bent  down  his  ear  and 
received  my  order  as  if  it  had  been  confidential  State  business  I 
was  asking  him  to  undertake.  When  he  came  back,  carrying 
the  tray  in  frofit  of  him,  it  was  almost  processional.     And  in  the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  2^ 

interval,  when  I  turned  round  to  look  out  of  the  window,  and 
saw  another  of  those  respectfully-subdued  waiters  standing 
behind  my  chair,  quite  motionless,  I  jumped.  A  great  many 
people  were  getting  their  breakfasts,  not  with  the  cheerful  alac- 
rity which  we  use  at  home,  but  rather  with  a  portentous  deli- 
beration and  concentration  which  did  not  admit  of  much  talking. 
The  silence  was  broken  only  in  one  corner,  where  a  group  of 
Americans  seemed  to  have  got  accustomed  to  the  atmosphere. 
When  the  English  breakfasters  raised  their  eyes  from  their 
papers  and  eggs-and-toast,  they  regarded  my  talkative  com- 
patriots with  a  look  which  must  have  fairly  chilled  their  tea.  I 
hope  nobody  has  ever  looked  at  me  like  that  in  England  The 
Americans  were  from  Virginia,  as  I  could  tell  by  their  accent, 
and  their  '  c'y'arn't '  and  '  sis'r  '  and  '  honey  '  and  '  heap  better.' 
But  I  have  no  doubt  the  English  people,  in  their  usual  loftily  com- 
prehensive fashion,  set  the  strangers  down  as  '  Yankees,'  and  no 
amount  of  explanation  could  have  taught  them  that  the '  Yankees 
are  the  New  Englanders,  and  that  the  name  would  once  have  been 
taken  as  an  insult  by  a  Southerner.  But  the  Virginians  were 
blissfully  indifferent  to  the  British  estimate  of  themselves,  and  they 
talked  as  freely  of  their  shopping  and  sight-seeing  as  they  would 
in  Delmonico's  or  the  Brunswick.  To  be  perfectly  honest,  a 
conviction  came  to  me  then  that  sometimes  we  don't  care  enough. 
But,  for  my  part,  I  liked  listening  to  that  Virginian  corner. 

I'm  afraid  it  was  rather  a  late  breakfast,  and  the  lobby 
was  full  of  people  strolling  in  and  out  when  I  went  through  on 
my  way  to  my  room.  I  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  dining-room 
door  looking  at  the  lobby — I  had  heard  so  many  Chicago  people 
describe  it — and  I  noticed  in  the  seats  that  run  around  it, 
against  the  wall,  two  young  women.  They  were  leaning  back 
nonchalantly,  watching  the  comers  and  the  goers.  Both  of 
3 


24 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


them  had  their  knees  crossed,  and  one  had  her  hands  in  her 
jacket  pockets.  A  man  in  the  seat  next  them,  who  might  or 
might  not  have  belonged  to  them,  was  smoking  a  large  cigar. 
Two  English  ladies  came  out  from  breakfast  behind  me,  stood 
waiting  for  somebody,  and  said  one  to  the  other :  '  Look  at 
those  disgusting  American  girls  ! '  But  I  had  seen  the  young 
women's  boots.     Just  to  be  satisfied,  I  walked  up  to  one  of  them, 


*  "  THOSE    WSGUSTINO    AMEBICAN    GIRLS  "  ' 

and  asked  her  if  she  could  kindly  tell  me  when  I  ought  to  post 
letters  for  New  York. 

'  The  American  maiyel  goes  out  Wednesdays  an'  Satuhdays,- 
I  fancy,'  the  young  woman  replied,  *  but  I'm  not  suah  ;  it  would 
be  saifah  to  ask  the  clahk ! ' 

She  spoke  quite  distinctly,  so  that  the  English  ladies  must 
have  heard  her,  and  I  am  afraid  they  saw  in  my  glance  as  I 
went  upstairs  that  I  had  intended  to  correct  their  mistake. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  t$ 

I  started  to  see  Mrs.  Portheris  at  eleven  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  the  9th  of  April — a  lovely  day,  a  day  which  augured 
brightly  and  hopefully.  I  waited  carefully  till  eleven,  thinking 
by  that  time  my  relation  would  have  had  her  breakfast  in  bed 
and  been  dressed,  and  perhaps  have  been  helped  downstairs  to 
her  own  particular  sunny  window,  where  I  thought  I  might  see 
her  faded,  placid,  sweet  old  face  looking  up  from  her  knitting 
and  out  into  the  busy  street.  Words  have  such  an  inspiring 
effect  upon  the  imagination.  All  this  had  emanated  from  the 
'  dear  ones,'  and  I  felt  confident  and  pleased  and  happy  before- 
hand to  be  a  dear  one.  I  wore  one  of  my  plainest  walking- 
dresses — I  love  simplicity  in  dress — so  as  to  mitigate  the  shock 
to  my  relation  as  far  as  I  could ;  but  it  was  a  New  York  one, 
and  it  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  moral  support.  It  may  be  weak- 
minded  in  me,  but  I  simpl}'  couldn't  have  gone  to  see  my  rela- 
tion in  a  hat  and  gloves  that  didn't  match.  Clothes  and  courage 
have  so  much  to  do  with  each  other. 

The  porter  said  that  I  had  better  take  '  a  'ansora,'  or  if  I 
walked  to  Charing  Cross  I  could  get  '  a  'Ammersmith  'bus ' 
which  would  take  me  to  Half-Moon  Street,  Piccadilly.  I  asked 
him  if  there  were  any  street-cars  running  that  way.  '  D'ye 
mean  growlers,  miss  ? '  he  said.  *  I  can  get  ye  a  growler  in 
'arf  a  minute/  But  I  didn't  know  what  he  meant,  and  I  didn't 
like  the  sound  of  it.  A  '  growler '  was  probably  not  at  all  a 
proper  thing  for  a  young  lady  to  ride  in ;  and  I  was  determined 
to  be  considerate  of  the  feelings  of  my  relation.  I  saw  ladies 
in  hansoms,  but  I  had  never  been  in  one  at  home,  and  they 
looked  very  tiltuppy.  Also,  they  went  altogether  too  fast,  and 
as  it  was  a  slippery  day  the  horses  attached  to  them  sat  down 
and  rested  a  great  deal  oftener  than  I  thought  I  should  like. 
And  when  the  animals  were  not  poor  old  creatures  that  were 


26  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

obliged  to  sit  down  in  this  precipitate  way,  they  danced  and 
pranced  in  a  manner  which  did  not  inspire  me  with  confidence. 
In  America  our  cab-horses  know  themselves  to  be  cab-horses,  and 
behave  accordingly — they  have  none  of  the  national  theories 
about  equality  whatever ;  but  the  London  quadrupeds  might  be 
the  greatest  Democrats  going  from  the  airs  they  put  on.  And 
I  saw  no  street-cars  anywhere.  So  I  decided  upon  the  'Ammer- 
smith  'bus,  and  the  porter  pointed  out  the  direction  of  Charing 
Cross. 

It  seems  to  me  now  that  I  was  what  you  would  call  *  uncom- 
monly* stupid  about  it,  but  I  hadn't  gone  very  far  before  I 
realised  that  I  did  not  quite  know  what  Charing  Cross  was.  I 
had  come,  you  see,  from  a  city  where  the  streets  are  mostly 
numbered,  and  run  pretty  much  in  rows.  The  more  I  thought 
about  it,  the  less  it  seemed  to  mean  anything.  So  I  asked  a 
large  policeman — the  largest  and  straightest  policeman,  with 
the  reddest  face  I  had  ever  seen :  '  Mr.  Officer,'  I  said,  knowing 
your  fondness  for  titles  in  this  country,  *what  is  Charing 
Cross?' 

He  smiled  very  kindly.  *  Wy,  miss,'  he  said,  'there's  Char- 
ing Cross  Station,  and  there's  Charing  Cross  'Otel,  and  there's 
Charing  Cross.     Wot  were  you  wanting  pertickeler  ? ' 

'  Charing  Cross ! '  said  I. 

'  There  it  lies,  in  front  of  you ! '  the  policeman  said,  waving 
his  arm  so  as  to  take  in  the  whole  of  Trafalgar  Square.  '  It 
ain't  possible  for  you  to  miss  it.  Miss.  And  as  three  other 
people  were  waiting  to  ask  him  something  else,  I  thought 
I  ought  not  to  occupy  his  attention  any  further.  I  kept 
straight  on,  in  and  out  among  the  crowd,  comparing  it  in  my 
mind  with  a  New  York  or  Chicago  crowd.  I  found  a  great 
many  more  kinds  of  people  in  it  than  there  would  be  at  home. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  37 

You  are  remarkably  different  in  this  country.  We  are  a  good 
deal  the  same.  I  was  not  at  all  prepared  then  to  make  a  com- 
parison of  averages,  but  I  noticed  that  life  seemed  to  mean  some- 
thing more  serious  for  most  of  the  people  I  met  than  it  does  with 
us.  Hardly  anybody  was  laughing,  and  very  few  people  were 
making  unseemly  haste  about  their  business.  There  was  no 
eagerness  and  no  enthusiasm.  Neither  was  there  any  hustling. 
In  a  crowd  like  that  in  Chicago  everybody  would  have  hustled, 
and  nobody  would  have  minded  it. 

*  Where  is  Charing  Cross  ? '  I  asked  one  of  the  flower- 
women  sitting  by  the  big  iron  entrances  to  the  station.  '  Bight 
'ere,  miss,  ware  you  be  a-standin' !  Bwif  a  flower,  miss  ?  Only 
a  penny  !  an*  lovely  they  are  !  I)o  buy  one,  laidy  ! '  It  was 
dreadfully  pathetic,  the  way  she  said  it,  and  she  had  frightful 
holes  in  her  shawl,  and  no  hat  or  bonnet  on.  I  had  never  seen 
a  woman  selling  things  out  of  doors  with  nothing  on  her  head 
before,  and  it  hurt  me  somehow.  But  I  couldn't  possibly  have 
bought  her  flowers — they  were  too  much  like  her.  So  I  gave  her 
a  sixpence,  and  asked  her  where  I  could  find  an  'Ammersmith 
*bus.  She  thanked  me  so  volubly  that  I  couldn't  possibly  under- 
stand her,  but  I  made  out  that  if  I  stayed  where  I  was  an 
'Ammersmith  'bus  would  presently  arrive.  She  went  on  asking 
me  to  buy  flowers  though,  so  I  walked  a  little  farther  off.  I 
waited  a  long  time,  and  not  a  single  'bus  appeared  with  'Ammer- 
smith on  it.  Finally,  I  asked  another  policeman.  *  There ! '  he 
said,  as  one  of  the  great  lumbering  concerns  rolled  up — '  that's 
one  of  'em  now !  You'll  get  it ! '  I  didn't  like  to  dispute  with 
an  officer  of  the  law,  but  I  had  seen  plenty  of  that  particular 
red  variety  of  'bus  go  past,  and  to  be  quite  certain  I  said  :  '  But 
isn't  that  a  Hammersmith  one  ?  '  The  policeman  looked  quite 
cross,    *  Well,  isn't  that  what  you're  a-askin'  for  ?   'Ammersmith 


28  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

an'  'Ammersmith — it's  all  the  saime,  dependin'  on  'ow  you  per- 
nounces  it.  Some  people  calls  it  'Ammersmith,  an'  some  people 
calls  it  'Ammersmith  ! '  and  he  turned  a  broad  and  indignant 
back  upon  me.  I  flew  for  the  'bus,  and  the  conductor,  in  a 
friendly  way,  helped  me  on  by  my  elbow. 

I  did  not  think,  before,  that  anything  could  wobble  like  an 
Atlantic  steamer,  but  I  experienced  nothing  more  trying  coming 
over  than  that  Hammersmith  'bus.  And  there  were  no  straps 
from  the  roof  to  hold  on  by  —nothing  but  a  very  high  and  in- 
convenient handrail ;  and  the  vehicle  seemed  quite  full  of  stout 
old  gentlemen  with  white  whiskers,  who  looked  deeply  annoyed 
when  I  upset  their  umbrellas  and  unintentionally  plunged  upon 
their  feet.  '  More  room  houtside,  miss  ! '  the  conductor  said — 
which  I  considered  impertinent,  thinking  that  he  meant  in  the 
road.  '  Is  there  any  room  on  top  ? '  I  asked  him,  because  I  had 
walked  on  so  many  of  the  old  gentlemen's  feet  that  I  felt  uncom- 
fortable about  it.  '  Yes,  miss ;  that's  wot  I'm  a-sayin' — lots  o' 
room  ^owfeide  ! '  So  I  took  advantage  of  a  lame  man's  getting 
off  to  mount  the  spiral  staircase  at  the  back  of  the  'bus  and 
take  a  seat  on  top.  It  is  a  pity,  isn't  it,  that  Noah  didn't  think 
of  an  outside  spiral  staircase  like  that  to  his  ark.  He  might 
have  accommodated  so  many  more  of  the  animals,  providing 
them,  of  course,  with  oilskin  covers  to  keep  off  the  wet,  as  you 
do.  But  even  coming  from  a  bran  new  and  irreverent  country, 
where  nobody  thinks  of  consulting  the  Old  Testament  for  models 
of  public  conveyances,  anybody  can  see  that  in  many  respects 
you  have  improved  immensely  upon  Noah. 

It  was  lovely  up  there — exactly  like  coming  on  deck  after 
being  in  a  stuffy  little  cabin  in  the  steamer — a  good  deal  of 
motion,  but  lots  of  fresh  air.  I  was  a  little  nervous  at  first,  but 
as  nobody  i'ell  off  the  tops  of  any  of  the  other  'buses,  I  concluded 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  29 

that  it  was  not  a  thing  you  were  expected  to  do,  and  presently 
forgot  all  about  it  looking  at  the  people  swarming  below  me. 
My  position  made  me  feel  immeasurably  superior — at  such  a 
swinging  height  above  them  all — and  I  found  myself  speculating 
about  them  and  criticising  them,  as  I  never  should  have  done 
walking.  I  had  never  ridden  on  the  top  of  anything  before  ;  it 
gave  me  an  entirely  new  revelation  of  my  fellow -creatures — if 
your  monarchical  feelings  will  allow  that  expression  from  a 
Republican.  I  must  say  I  liked  it — looking  down  upon  people 
who  were  travelling  in  the  same  direction  as  I  was,  only  on  a 
le\  el  below.  I  began  to  understand  the  agreeableness  of  class 
distinctions,  and  I  wondered  whether  the  arrangement  of  seats 
on  the  tops  of  the  'buses  was  not,  probably,  a  material  result  of 
aristocratic  prejudices. 

Oh,  I  liked  it  through  and  through,  that  first  ride  on  a 
London  'bas !  To  know  just  how  I  liked  it,  and  why,  and  how 
and  why  we  all  like  it  from  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  you 
must  be  born  and  brought  up,  as  most  of  us  have  been,  in  a 
city  twenty -five  or  fifty  years  old,  where  the  houses  are  all  made 
of  clean  wliite  or  red  brick,  with  clean  green  lawns  and  geranium 
beds  and  painted  iron  fences  ;  where  rows  of  nice  new  maple- 
trees  are  planted  in  the  clean-shaved  boulevards,  and  fresh - 
planed  wooden  sidewalks  run  straight  for  a  mile  or  two  at  a 
time,  and  all  the  city  blocks  stand  in  their  proper  right  angles — 
which  are  among  our  advantages,  I  have  no  doubt;  but  our 
advantages  have  a  way  of  making  your  disadvantages  more  in- 
teresting. Having  been  monarchists  all  your  lives,  however, 
you  can't  possibly  understand  what  it  is  to  have  been  brought 
up  in  fresh  paint.  I  ought  not  to  expect  it  of  you.  If  you 
could,  though,  I  should  find  it  easier  to  tell  you,  according  to 
my  experience,  why  we  are  all  so  devoted  to  London. 


30 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


There  was  the  smell,  to  begin  with.  I  write  '  there  was,' 
because  I  regret  to  say  that  during  the  past  few  months  I  have 
become  accustomed  to  it,  and  for  me  that  smell  is  done  up  in 
a  past  tense  for  ever;  so  that  I  can  quite  understand  a  Londoner 
not  believing  in  it.  The  Hammersmith  'bus 
was  in  the  Strand  when  I  first  became  conscious 
of  it,   and  1   noticed    afterwards   that   it   was 

always  more  pro- 
nounced down  there, 
in  the  heart  of  the 
City,  than  in  Ken- 
sington, for  in- 
stance. It  was  no 
special  odour  or 
collection  of  odours 
that  could  be  dis- 
tinguished— it  was 
rather  an  abstract 
smell — and  yet  it 
gave  a  kind  of 
solidity  and  nutri- 
ment to  the  air,  and 
made  you  feel  as  if 
your  lungs  digested 
it.  There  was  com- 
fort and  support 
and  satisfaction  in 
that  smell,  and  I  often  vainly  try  to  smell  it  again. 

We  find  the  irregularity  of  London  so  gratifying,  too.  The 
way  the  streets  turn  and  twist  and  jostle  each  other,  and  lead 
up  into  nothing,  and  turn  around  and  come  back  again,  and 


WHEBE  SMALL  BOYS  GO 
BOUND  ON  ONE  BOLLEE 
SKATE  ' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  31 

assume  aliases^  and  break  out  into  circuses  and  stray  into  queer, 
dark  courts,  where  small  boys  go  round  on  one  roller  skate,  or 
little  green  churchyards  only  a  few  yards  from  the  cabs'  and  the 
crowd,  where  there  is  nobody  but  the  dead  people,  who  have 
grown  tired  of  it  all.  From  the  top  of  the  Hammersmith  'bus, 
as  it  went  through  the  Strand  that  morning,  I  saw  funny  little 
openings  that  made  me  long  to  get  down  and  look  into  them ; 
but  I  had  my  relation  to  think  of,  so  I  didn't. 

Then  there  is  the  well- settled,  well-founded  look  of  every- 
thing, as  if  it  had  all  come  ages  ago,  and  meant  to  stay  for  ever, 
and  just  go  on  the  way  it  had  before.  We  like  that — the 
security  and  the  permanence  of  it,  which  seems  to  be  in  some 
way  connected  with  the  big  policemen,  and  the  orderly  crowd, 
and  '  Keep  to  the  Left '  on  the  signboards,  and  the  British  coat 
of  arms  over  so  many  of  the  shops.  I  thought  that  morning 
that  those  shops  were  probably  the  property  of  the  Crown,  but 
I  was  very  soon  corrected  about  that.  At  home  I  am  afraid  we 
fluctuate  considerably,  especially  in  connection  with  cyclones 
and  railway  interests — we  are  here  to-day,  and  there  is  no  tell- 
ing where  we  shall  be  to-morrow.  So  the  abiding  kind  of  city 
gives  us  a  comfortable  feeling  of  confidence.  It  was  not  very 
long  before  even  I,  on  the  top  of  the  Hammersmith  'bus,  felt 
that  I  was  riding  an  Institution,  and  no  matter  to  what  extent 
it  wobbled  it  might  be  relied  upon  not  to  come  down. 

I  don't  know  whether  you  will  like  our  admiring  you  on 
account  of  your  griminess,  but  we  do.  At  home  we  are  so 
monotonously  clean,  architecturally,  that  we  can't  make  any 
aesthetic  pretensions  whatever.  There  is  nothing  artistic  about 
white  brick.  It  is  clean  and  neat  and  sanitary,  but  you  get 
tired  of  looking  at  it,  especially  when  it  is  made  up  in  patterns 
with  red  brick  mixed  in.     And  since  you  must  be  dirty,  it  may 


32  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

gratify  you  to  know  that  you  are  very  soothing  to  Transatlantic 
nerves  suffering  from  patterns  like  that.  But  you  are  also  mis- 
leading. '  I  suppose,'  I  said  to  a  workman  in  front  of  me  as  we 
entered  Fleet  Street,  '  that  is  some  old  palace  ?  Do  you  know 
the  date  of  it  ? ' 

'  No,  miss,'  he  answered,  '  that  ain't  no  palace.  Them's  the 
new  Law  Courts,  only  built  the  last  ten  year ! ' 

The  new  Law  Courts  ! 

'  The  Strand  ! '  '  Fleet  Street ! '  '  Ludgate  Hill ! '  '  Cheap- 
Bide  ! '  and  I  was  actually  in  those  famous  places,  riding  through 
them  on  a  'bus,  part  of  their  multitude.  The  very  names  on 
the  street  corners  held  fascination  enough,  and  each  of  them  gave 
me  the  separate  little  thrill  of  the  altogether  unexpected.  I  had 
unconsciously  believed  that  all  these  names  were  part  of  the 
vanished  past  I  had  connected  them  with,  forgetting  that  in 
London  names  endure.  But  I  began  to  feel  that  I  ought  to  be 
arriving.  '  Conductor,'  I  said,  as  he  passed,  '  stop  the  'bus, 
and  let  me  get  down  at  Half-Moon  Street,  Piccadilly.' 

'  We're  goin'  strait  awai  from  it,  miss ;  you  get  that  red  'bus 
standin'  over  there — that'll  taike  you  ! ' 

So  I  went  all  the  way  back  again,  and  on  to  my  relation's, 
on  the  top  of  the  red  'bus,  not  at  all  regretting  my  mistake. 
But  it  made  it  almost  twelve  o'clock  when  I  rang  the  bell — 
Mrs.  Portheris's  bell — at  the  door  of  her  house  in  Half-^Ioou 
Street,  Piccadilly, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  33 


IV 

FROM  the  outside  T  didn't  think  much  of  Mrs.  Portheris's 
house.  It  was  very  tall,  and  very  plain,  and  very  narrow, 
and  quite  expressionless,  except  that  it  wore  a  sort  of  dirty  brown 
frown.  Like  its  neighbours,  it  had  a  well  in  front  of  it,  and 
steps  leading  down  into  the  well,  and  an  iron  fence  round  the 
steps,  and  a  brass  bell-handle  lettered  '  Tradesmen.'  Like  its 
neighbours,  too,  it  wore  boxes  of  spotty  black  greenery  on  the 
window-sills — in  fact,  it  was  very  like  its  neighbours,  except 
that  it  had  one  or  two  solemn  little  black  balconies  that  looked 
as  if  nobody  ever  sat  in  them  running  across  the  face  of  it,  and 
a  tall,  shallow  porch,  with  two  or  three  extremely  white  stone 
steps  before  the  front  door.  Half-Moon  Street,  to  me,  looked 
like  a  family  of  houses — a  family  differing  in  heights  and 
complexions  and  the  colour  of  its  hair,  but  sharing  all  the 
characteristics  of  a  family — of  an  old  family.  A  person  draws  a 
great  many  conclusions  from  the  outside  of  a  house,  and  my 
conclusion  from  the  outside  of  my  relation's  house  was  that  she 
couldn't  be  very  well  off  to  be  obliged  to  live  in  such  a  plain 
and  gloomy  locality,  with  '  Tradesmen '  on  the  ground-floor ; 
and  I  hoped  they  were  not  any  noisy  kind  of  tradesmen,  such 
as  shoemakers  or  carpenters,  who  would  disturb  her  early  in 
the  morning.  The  clean-scrubbed  stone  steps  reflected  very 
favourably,  I  thought,  upon  Mrs.  Portheris,  and  gave  the 
house,  in  spite  of  its  grimy,  old-fashioned,  cramped  appearance, 


34 


AN  AMERICAA   GIRL  IN  LONDON 


FBOU   THE    OUTSIDE    I   DIDN't   THINK   MUCH   OF    MRS.    PORTHERIS'S   HOUSB  * 


I 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  35 

a  look  of  respectability  which  redeemed  it.  But  I  did  not  see 
at  any  window,  behind  the  spotty  evergreens,  the  sweet,  sad 
face  of  my  relation,  though  there  were  a  hand-organ  and  a 
monkey  and  a  German  band  all  operating  within  twenty  yards 
of  the  house. 

I  rang  the  bell.  The  door  opened  a  great  deal  more 
quickly  than  you  might  imagine  from  the  time  I  am  taking  to 
tell  about  it,  and  I  was  confronted  by  my  first  surprise  in 
London.  It  was  a  man — a  neat,  smooth,  pale,  round-faced 
man  in  livery,  rather  fat  and  very  sad.  It  was  also  Mrs. 
Portheris's  interior.  This  was  very  dark  and  very  quiet,  but 
what  light  there  was  fell  richly,  through  a  square,  stained- 
glass  window  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  upon  the  red  and  blue  of 
some  old  china  above  a  door,  and  a  collection  of  Indian  spears, 
and  a  twisting  old  oak  staircase  that  glowed  with  colour.  Mrs. 
Portheris's  exterior  had  prepared  me  for  something  different.  I 
did  not  know  then  that  in  London  everything  is  a  matter  of  the 
inside — I  had  not  seen  a  Duchess  living  crowded  up  to  her 
ears  with  other  people's  windows.  With  us  the  outside  counts 
so  tremendously.  An  American  duchess,  if  you  can  imagine 
such  a  person,  would  consider  it  only  due  to  the  fitness  of 
things  that  she  should  have  an  imposing  front  yard,  and  at  least 
room  enough  at  the  back  for  the  clothes-lines.  But  this  has 
nothing  to  do  with  Half-Moon  Street. 

*  Does  Mrs.  Portheris  live  here  ? '  I  asked,  thinking  it  was 
just  possible  she  might  have  moved. 

'  Yes,  miss,'  said  the  footman,  with  a  subdued  note  of  inter- 
rogation. 

I  felt  relieved.     *  Is  she —  is  she  well  ? '  I  inquired. 

*  Qxdie  well,  miss,'  he  replied,  with  the  note  of  interrogation 
a  little  more  obvious. 


36  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  1  should  like  to  see  her.     Is  she  in  ?* 

*  I'll  h'inquire,  miss.     'Oo  shall  I  sai,  miss  ?  * 

I  thought  1  would  prepare  my  relation  gradually.  '  A  lady 
from  Chicago,'  said  I. 

*  Very  well,  miss.     Will  you  walk  upstairs,  miss  ? ' 

In  America  drawing-rooms  are  on  the  ground-floor.  I 
thought  he  wanted  to  usher  me  into  Mrs.  Portheris's  bodroom. 
'  No,  sir,'  I  said ;  *  I'll  wait  here.'  Then  I  thought  of  Mi-. 
Mafferton,  and  of  what  he  had  said  about  saying  '  sir  '  to 
people,  and  my  sensations  were  awful.  I  have  never  done  it 
once  since. 

The  footman  reappeared  in  a  few  minutes  with  a  troubled 
and  apologetic  countenance.  '  Mrs.  Portheris  says  as  she  doesn't 
want  anythink,  miss !  I  told  her  as  I  didn't  understand  you 
were  disposin'  of  anythink  ;  but  that  was  'er  message,  miss.' 

I  couldn't  help  laughing — it  was  so  very  funny  to  think  of 
my  being  taken  for  a  lady-pedlar  in  the  house  of  my  relation. 
*  I'm  very  glad  she's  in,'  I  said.  *  That  is  quite  a  mistake ! 
Tell  her  it's  Miss  Mamie  Wick,  daughter  of  Colonel  Joshua  P. 
Wick,  of  Chicago  ;  but  if  she's  lying  down,  or  anything,  I  can 
drop  in  again." 

He  was  away  so  long  that  I  began  to  wonder  if  my  relation 
suspected  me  of  dynamite  in  any  form,  and  he  came  back  look- 
ing more  anxious  than  ever.  '  Mi-s.  J^ortheris  says  she's  very 
sorry,  miss,  and  will  you  please  to  walk  up  ? '  *  Certainly,'  I 
said,  '  but  I  hope  I  won't  be  disturbing  her ! ' 

And  I  walked  up. 

It  was  a  big  square  room,  with  a  big  square  piano  in  it,  and 
long  lace  curtains,  and  two  or  three  gilt-framed  mirrors,  and  a 
threat  many  old-fashioned  ornaments  under  glass  cases,  and  a 
tinkliug  glass  chandelier  in  the  middle.     There  were  several 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


37 


oil-pa' ntings  on  the  walls — low-necked  portraits  and  landscapes, 
principally  dark-green  and  black  and  yellow,  with  cows,  and 
quantities  of  lovely  china.  The  furniture  was  red  brocade,  with 
spindly  legs,  and  there  was  a  tall  palm  in  a  pot,  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  room,  by  itself  in  a  corner.  I 
remembered  these  things  afterwards.  At  the  time  I  noticed 
chiefly  two  young  persons  with  the  pinkest  cheeks  I  ever  saw, 


THEY    SAT    UP    VERY    NICELY    IM1>EED 


out  of  a  picture  book,  sifting  near  a  window.  They  were  dressed 
exactly  alike,  and  their  hair  hung  down  their  backs  to  their 
waists,  although  they  must  have  been  seventeen ;  and  they  sat 
up  very  nicely  indeed  on  two  of  the  red  chairs,  one  occupied 
with  worsted  work,  and  the  other  apparently  reading  aloud  to 
her,  though  she  stopped  when  I  came  in.  I  have  seen  something 
since  at  Madame  Tussaud's — bat  I  daresay  you  have  often  noticed 


38  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

it  yourself.  And  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  with  her 
hand  on  a  centre-table,  was  Mrs.  Portheris. 

My  first  impression  was  that  she  had  been  standing  there  for 
the  last  hour  in  that  immovable  way,  with  exactly  that  remark- 
able expression ;  and  it  struck  me  that  she  could  go  on  standing 
for  the  next  without  altering  it,  quite  comfortably — she  seemed 
to  be  so  solidly  placed  there,  with  her  hand  upon  the  table. 
Though  I  wouldn't  call  Mrs.  Portheris  stout,  she  was  massive — 
rather,  of  an  impressive  build.  Her  skirt  fell  in  a  commanding 
way  from  her  waist,  though  it  hitched  up  a  little  in  front,  which 
spoiled  the  effect.  She  had  broad  square  shoulders,  and  a  lace 
collar,  and  a  cap  with  pink  ribbons  in  it,  and  grey  hair  smooth 
on  each  side  of  her  face,  and  large  well-cut  features,  and  the  ex- 
pression I  spoke  of.  I've  seen  the  expression  since  among  the 
Egyptian  antiquities  in  the  British  Museum,  but  I  am  unable  to 
describe  it.  ^  Armed  neutrality '  is  the  only  phrase  that  occurs  to 
me  in  connection  with  it,  and  that  by  no  means  does  it  justice. 
For  there  was  curiosity  in  it,  as  well  as  hostility  and  reserve — 
but  I  won't  try.  And  she  kept  her  hand — it  was  her  right  hand 
— upon  the  table. 

'  Miss  Wich^'  she  said,  bowing,  and  dwelling  upon  the  name 
with  strong  doubt.  '  I  believe  I  have  a  connection  of  that  name 
in  America.     Is  your  father's  name  Joshua  Peter  ? ' 

'  Yes,  Mrs.  Portheris,'  I  replied ;  '  and  he  says  he  is  your 
nephew.  I've  just  come.  How  do  you  do?'  I  said  this  be- 
cause it  was  the  only  thing  the  situation  seemed  to  warrant  me 
saying. 

'  Oh,  I  am  quite  in  my  usual  health,  thank  you  !  My 
nephew  by  marriage- — a  former  marriage — a  very  distant  con- 
nection.' 

'Three  thousand  five  hundred  miles,'  said  I;  *he  lives  in 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


39 


Chicago.  You  have  never  been  over  to  see  us,  Mrs.  Portheris.' 
At  this  point  1  walked  across  to  one  of  the  spindly  red  chairs 
and  sat  down.  I  thought  then  that  she  had  forgotten  to  ask 
me  ;  hut  even  now,  when  i  know  she  hadn't,  I  am  not  at  all 


ip-s^ 


'  THE  OLD  LADY  GATHERED  HERSELF  UP  AND  LOOKED  AT  ME  ' 

sorry  T  sat  down,     I  find  it  is  possible  to  stand  up  too  much  in 
this  country. 

The  old  lady  gathered  herself  up  and  looked  at  me.     '  Where 
are  your  father  and  mother  ?  '  she  said. 
4 


40  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  In  Chicago,  Mrs.  Portheris.  All  very  well,  thank  you  !  I 
had  a  cable  from  them  this  morning,  before  I  left  the  hotel. 
Kind  regards  to  you.' 

Mrs.  Portheris  looked  at  me  in  absolute  silence.  Then  she 
deliberately  arranged  her  back  draperies  and  sat  down  too — not 
in  any  amiable  way,  but  as  if  the  situation  must  be  faced. 

'  Margaret  and  Isabel,*  she  said  to  the  two  young  pink  per- 
sons, '  go  to  your  rooms,  dears ! '  And  she  waited  till  the 
damsels,  each  with  a  little  shy  smile  and  blush,  gathered  up 
their  effects  and  went,  before  she  continued  the  conversation. 
As  they  left  the  room  I  observed  that  they  wore  short  dresses, 
buttoned  down  the  back.  It  began  to  grow  very  interesting  to 
me,  after  the  first  shock  of  finding  this  kind  of  relation  was 
over.  I  found  myself  waiting  for  what  was  to  come  next  with 
the  deepest  interest.  In  America  we  are  very  fond  of  types — 
perhaps  because  we  have  so  few  among  ourselves — and  it  seemed 
to  me,  as  I  sat  there  on  Mrs.  Portheris's  spindly  red  chair,  that 
I  had  come  into  violent  contact  with  a  type  of  the  most  valuable 
and  pronounced  description.  Privately  I  resolved  to  stay  as 
long  as  I  could,  and  lose  no  opportunity  of  observing  it.  And 
my  first  observation  was  that  Mrs.  Portheris's  expression  was 
changing — losing  its  neutrality  and  beginning  to  radiate  active 
opposition  and  stern  criticism,  with  an  uncompromising  sense 
of  duty  twisted  in  at  the  corners  of  the  mouth.  There  was  no 
agitation  whatever,  and  I  thought  with  an  inward  smile  of  my 
relation's  nerves. 

'  Then  I  suppose,'  said  Mrs.  Portheris — the  supposition  being 
of  the  vaguest  possible  importance — 'that  you  are  with  a  party 
of  Americans.  It  seems  to  be  an  American  idea  to  go  about  in 
hordes.  I  never  could  understand  it — to  me  it  would  be  most 
obnoxious.     How  many  are  there  of  you  ? ' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  4t 

'  One,  Mrs.  Porbheris — and  I  m  the  one.  Poppa  and  momma 
had  set  their  hearts  on  coming.  Poppa  thought  of  getting  up 
an  Anglo-American  Soda  Trust,  and  momma  wanted  particularly 
to  make  your  acquaintance — your  various  Christmas  cards  have 
given  us  all  such  a  charming  idea  of  you — but  at  the  last 
minute  something  interfered  with  their  plans  and  they  had  to 
give  it  up.     They  told  me  to  tell  you  how  sorry  they  were.' 

'  Something  interfered  with  their  plans !  But  nothing 
interfered  with  your  plans  ! ' 

*  Oh,  no ;  it  was  some  political  business  of  poppa's — nothing 
to  keep  me  !  * 

'  Then  do  I  actually  understand  that  your  parents,  of  their 
own  free  vnll,  permitted  you  to  cross  the  Atlantic  alone  ? ' 

'  I  hope  you  do,  Mrs.  Portheris ;  but  if  it's  not  quite  clear  to 
you,  I  don't  mind  explaining  it  again.' 

'  Upon  my  word  !     And  you  are  at  an  hotel — which  hotel  ? ' 

When  1  told  Mrs.  Portheris  the  Metropole,  her  indigna- 
tion mounted  to  her  cap,  and  one  of  the  pink  ribbons  shook 
violently. 

'It  is  very  American!'  she  said;  and  I  felt  that  Mrs. 
Portheris  could  rise  to  no  more  forcible  a  climax  of  disapproval. 

But  I  did  not  mind  Mrs.  Portheris's  disapproval ;  in  fact, 
according  to  my  classification  of  her,  I  should  have  been 
disappointed  if  she  had  not  disapproved — it  would  have  been 
out  of  character.  So  I  only  smiled  as  sweetly  as  I  could,  and 
said,  ^  So  am  I.' 

'  Is  it  not  very  expensive  ? '  There  was  a  note  of  angry 
wonder  as  well  as  horror  in  this. 

'I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Portheris.     It's  very  comfortable.' 

^  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  in  my  life ! '  said  Mrs. 
Portheris.     *  It's — it's   outrageous!     It's — it's  not   customary! 


42  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

I  call  it  criminal  lenience  on  the  part  of  my  nephew  to  allow  it. 
He  must  have  taken  leave  of  his  senses ! ' 

'  Don't  say  anything  nasty  about  poppa,  Mrs.  Portheris,'  I 
remarked  ;  and  she  paused. 

'  As  to  your  mother ' 

'  Momma  is  a  lady  of  great  intelligence  and  advanced  views/ 
I  interrupted,  '  though  she  isn't  very  strong.  And  she  is  very 
well  acquainted  with  me.' 

'  Advanced  views  are  your  ruin  in  America !  May  1  ask 
how  you  found  your  way  here  ? ' 

'  On  a  'bus,  Mrs.  Portheris — the  red  Hammersmith  kind.  On 
two  'buses,  rather,  because  I  took  the  wrong  one  first,  and  went 
miles  straight  away  from  here ;  but  I  didn't  mind  it — I  liked  it.' 

'  In  an  omnibus  I  suppose  you  mean.  You  couldn't  very 
well  be  un  it,  unless  you  went  on  the  top  ! '  And  Mrs.  Portheris 
smiled  rather  derisively. 

'  I  did ;  I  went  on  the  top,'  I  returned  calmly.  '  And  it 
was  lovely.' 

Mrs.  Portheris  very  nearly  lost  her  self-control  in  her  effort 
to  grasp  this  enormity.  Her  cap  bristled  again,  and  the  muscles 
round  her  mouth  twitched  quite  perceptibly. 

'  Careering  all  over  London  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus ! '  she 
ejaculated.  '  Looking  for  my  house  !  And  in  that  frock  ! '  I 
felt  about  ten  when  she  talked  about  my  *  frock.'  '  Couldn't 
yoM  feel  that  you  were  altogether  too  smart  for  such  a  position  ?  ' 

'  No,  indeed,  Mrs.  Portheris  !  '  I  replied,  unacquainted  with 
the  idiom.  '  When  I  got  down  off  the  first  omnibus  in  Cheap- 
side  1  felt  as  if  I  hadn't  been  half  smart  enough  ! ' 

She  did  not  notice  my  misunderstanding.  By  the  time  T 
had  finished  my  sentence  she  was  rapping  the  table  with  sup- 
pressed excitement. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  43 

'  Miss  Wick  ! '  she  said — and  I  had  expected  her  to  call  me 
Mamie,  and  say  I  was  the  image  of  poppa  ! — '  you  are  the 
daughter  of  my  nephew — which  can  hardly  be  called  a  connec- 
tion at  all — but  on  that  account  I  will  give  you  a  piece  of 
advice.  The  top  of  an  omnibus  is  not  a  proper  place  for  you — 
I  might  say,  for  any  connection  of  mine,  however  distant !  I 
would  not  feel  that  I  was  doing  my  duty  toward  my  nephew's 
daughter  if  I  did  not  tell  you  that  you  must  not  go  there ! 
Don't  on  any  account  do  it  again  !  It  is  a  thing  people  never 
do!' 

'  Do  they  upset  ? '  I  asked. 

'  They  might.  But  apart  from  that,  I  must  ask  you,  on 
personal — on  family  grounds — always  to  go  inside.  In  Chicago 
you  may  go  outside  as  much  as  you  like,  but  in  London ' 

'Oh,  no  !  '  I  interrupted,  '  I  wouldn't  for  the  world — in 
Chicago ! '  which  Mrs.  Portheris  didn't  seem  to  understand. 

I  had  stayed  dauntlessly  for  half  an  hour — I  was  so  much 
interested  in  Mrs.  Portheris — and  I  began  to  feel  my  ability  to 
prolong  the  interview  growing  weaker.  I  was  sorry — I  would 
have  given  anything  to  have  heard  her  views  upon  higher 
education  and  female  suffrage,  and  the  Future  State  and  the 
Irish  Question ;  but  it  seemed  impossible  to  get  her  thoughts 
away  from  the  appalling  Impropriety  which  I,  on  her  spindly 
red  chair,  represented  I  couldn't  blame  her  for  that — I  sup- 
pose no  impropriety  bigger  than  a  spider  had  ever  got  into  her 
drawing-room  before.  So  I  got  up  to  go.  Mrs.  Portheris  also 
rose,  with  majesty.  I  think  she  wanted  to  show  me  what,  if  I 
had  been  properly  brought  up,  I  might  have  expected  reasonably 
to  develop  into  She  stood  in  the  midst  of  her  red  brocaded 
farniture.  with  her  hands  folded,  a  model  of  what  bringing  up 
(;an  do  if  it  is  unflinchingly  persevered  in,  and  all  the  mirrors 


44  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

reflected  the  ideal  she  presented.  I  felt,  beside  her,  as  if  I  had 
never  been  brought  up  at  all. 

'  Have  you  any  friends  in  London  ?  '  she  asked,  with  a  very 
weak  solution  of  curiosity  in  her  tone,  giving  me  her  hand  to 
facilitate  my  going,  and  immediately  ringing  the  bell. 

'  I  think  not,'  1.  said  with  decision. 

^  But  you  will  not  continue  to  stay  at  the  Metropole !  I  heg 
that  you  will  not  remain  another  day  at  the  Metropole  !  It  is 
not  usual  for  young  ladies  to  stay  at  hotels.  You  must  go  to 
some  place  where  only  ladies  are  received,  and  as  soon  as  you 
are  settled  in  one  communicate  at  once  with  the  rector  of  the 
parish — alone  as  you  are,  that  is  quite  ar  necessary  step.  Lights 
and  fires  will  probably  be  extra.' 

'  I  thought,'  said  I,  '  of  going  to  the  Lady  Guides'  Associa- 
tion— we  have  heard  of  it  in  Chicago  through  some  friends, 
who  went  round  every  day  for  three  weeks  with  lady-guides, 
and  found  it  simply  fascinating — and  asking  them  to  get  me  a 
private  family  to  board  with.  I  particularly  wished  to  see  what 
a  private  family  is  like  in  England.' 

Mrs.  Portheris  frowned.  '  I  could  never  bring  myself  to 
approve  of  lady-guides,'  she  said,  '  There  is  something  in  the 
idea  that  is  altogether  too — American.'  1  saw  that  the  conver- 
sation was  likely  to  grow  personal  again,  so  I  said:  'Well, 
good-bye,  Mrs.  Portheris  ! '  and  was  just  going,  when  '  Stop !  * 
said  my  relation,  '  there  is  Miss  Purkiss.' 

'  Is  there  ?  *  said  1. 

*  Certainly — the  very  thing  !  Miss  Purkiss  is  a  very  old 
friend  of  mine,  in  reduced  circumstances.  I've  known  her 
thirty-five  years.  She  is  an  excellent  woman,  with  the  most 
trustworthy  views  upon  all  matters.  In  so  far  as  our  widely 
diiferent  social   positions  have  permitted.  Miss  Purkiss  and  1 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


45 


have  been  on  terms,  I  may  say,  of  sisterly  intimacy  since  before 
you  were  born.  She  has  no  occupation  now,  having  lost  her 
position  as  secretary  to  the  Home  for  Incurable  Household  Pets 
through  ill-health,  and  a  very  limited  income.  She  lives  in  au 
excessively  modest  way  in  Upper  Baker  Street — very  convenient 
to  both  the  omnibuses  and  Underground — and  if  you  cast  in 


*IT   WAS   MISS   PUBKISS'S   ADDRESS 


your  lot  with  hers  while  you  are  in  England,  Miss  Wick ' — here 
Mrs.  Portheris  grew  almost  demonstrative —'you  need  never 
go  out  alone.  I  need  not  say  that  she  is  a  lady,  but  her  cir- 
cumstances will  probably  necessitate  her  asking  you  rather 
more  than  the  usual  rate  for  board  and  lodging,  in  compensa- 


46 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


tion  for  her  chaperonage  and  companionship.  All  I  can  say  is, 
that  both  will  be  very  thorough.  I  will  give  you  Miss  Purkiss's 
address  at  ©nee,  and  if  you  drive  there  immediately  you  will  be 
sure  to  find  her  in.  John,  call  a  hansom  ! '  And  Mrs.  Forth eris 
went  to  her  writing-table  and  wrote  the  address. 

*  There ! '  she  said,  folding  it  up  and  giving  it  to  me.  '  By 
all  means  try  to  arrange  with  Miss  Purkiss,  and  she,  being  a 
friend  of  my  own,  some  afternoon,  perhaps — I  must  think  about 
it — I  may  ask  her  to  bring  you  to  tea !     Good-bye  ! ' 


Vi.^^V^r:^ 


'  SPENT   HALF   AN   HOUR   IN   THE    MIDST    OF   MY   TRUNKS 


As  the  door  closed  behind  me  I  heard  Mrs.  Portheris's  voice 
on  the  landing.  '  Margaret  and  Isabel,'  it  said,  *  you  may  come 
down  now ! ' 

*  Ware  to,  miss  ? '  said  the  driver. 

'  Hotel  Metropole,'  said  I.    And  as  we  turned  into  Piccadilly 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  47 

n  little  flutter  of  torn  white  paper  went  back  on  the  wind  to 
Mrs.  Portheris.     It  was  Miss  Purkiss's  address. 

After  lunch  I  made  careful  notes  of  Mrs.  Portheris,  and 
then  spent  half  an  hour  in  the  midst  of  my  trunks,  looking  in 
the  '  Board  and  Lodging  '  rolumn  of  the  '  Morning  Post '  for 
accommodation  which  promised  to  differ  as  radically  as  possible 
i'ruiii  Miss  Purkiss's. 


48  AN  AMERICAS  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


^TY  principal  idea  was  to  get  away  as  soon  as  possible  from  the 
A  Metropole.  So  long  as  I  was  located  there  I  was  within  the 
grasp  of  my  relation ;  and  as  soon  as  she  found  out  my  insub- 
ordination in  the  matter  of  her  advice,  I  had  no  doubt  whatever 
that  my  relation  would  appear,  with  Miss  Purkiss,  all  in  rusty 
black,  behind  her — a  contingency  I  wished  to  avoid.  Miss 
Purkiss,  I  reflected,  would  probably  be  another  type,  and  types 
were  interesting,  but  not  to  live  with — my  relation  had  con- 
vinced me  of  that.  And  as  to  Mrs.  Portheris  herself,  while  I 
had  certainly  enjoyed  what  I  had  been  privileged  to  see  of  her, 
her  society  was  a  luxury  regarding  which  I  felt  that  1  could 
evercise  considerable  self-denial.  I  did  not  really  contemplate 
being  forced  into  Miss  Purkiss  and  Upper  Baker  Street  by  Mrs. 
Portheris  against  my  will,  not  for  a  moment ;  but  I  was  afraid 
the  situation  would  be  presented  on  philanthropic  grounds, 
which  would  be  disagreeable.  Miss  Purkiss  as  a  terror  I  felt 
equal  to,  but  Miss  Purkiss  as  an  object  of  charity  might  cow  me. 
And  Miss  Purkiss  in  any  staying  capacity  was  not,  I  felt,  what 
I  came  to  Great  Britain  to  experience.  So  I  studied  the 
columns  of  the  '  Morning  Post '  diligently  for  a  haven  of  refuge 
from  Miss  Purkiss. 

I  found  it  difficult  to  make  a  selection,  the  havens  were  so 
very  different,  and  all  so  superior.  1  believe  you  talk  about  the 
originality  of  American  advertising.     I  never  in  my  life  saw  a 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  49 

newspaper  page  to  compare  in  either  imagination  or  vocabulary 
with  the  one  I  scanned  that  day  at  the  Metropole.  It  seemed 
that  I  could  be  taken  all  over  London,  at  prices  varying  from 
one  '  g.'  to  three  '  gs. '  per  week,  although  the  surprising 
cheapness  of  this  did  not  strike  me  until  I  had  laboriously 
calculated  in  dollars  and  cents  the  exact  value  of  a  '  g.'  I 
know  now  that  it  is  a  term  of  English  currency  exclusively 
employed  in  Bond  Street,  Piccadilly,  Regent  and  Oxford  Streets 
— they  never  give  you  a  price  there  in  any  other.  And  the 
phrases  descriptive  of  the  various  homes  which  were  awaiting 
me  were  so  beautiful.  '  Excellent  meat  breakfast,'  '  a  liberal 
and  charmingly-refined  home,'  '  a  mother's  devoted  super- 
vision,' '  fresh  young  society,'  '  fashionably  situated  and  ele- 
gantly furnished,'  'just  vacated  by  a  clergyman,'  'foreign 
languages  understood  ' — which  would  doubtless  include  American 
— '  a  lofty  standard  of  culture  in  this  establishment.'  I 
wondered  if  they  kept  it  under  glass.  I  was  struck  with  the 
number  of  people  who  appeared  in  print  with  '  offerings  '  of  a 
domiciliary  nature.     '  A  widow   lady  of  cheerful  temperament 

and  artistic  tastes  offers '     '  The  daughter  of  a  late  Civil 

Servant  with  a  larger  house  than  she  requires  offers '     This 

must  have  been  a  reference  put  in  to  excite  sympathy,  other- 
wise, what  was  the  use  of  advertising  the  gentleman  after  he  was 
dead  ?  Even  from  the  sympathetic  point  of  view,  I  think  it  was 
a  mistake,  for  who  would  care  to  go  and  settle  in  a  house  the 
minute  the  crape  was  off  the  door  ?     Nobody. 

Not  only  original  advertisements  of  the  kind  I  was  looking 
for,  but  original  advertisements  of  kinds  I  wasn't  looking  for, 
appealed  to  my  interest  and  took  up  my  time  that  afternoon. 
'  Would  any  one  feel  disposed  to  lend  an  actress  five  pounds  ?  ^ 
*  Temporary  home  wanted,  with  a  family  of  quiet  habits,  in  a 


50  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

healthful  neighbourhood,  who  can  give  best  references,  for  a 
Persian  cat.'  '  An  elderly  country  rector  and  his  wife,  in  town 
for  a  month's  holiday,  would  be  glad  of  a  little  pleasant  society.' 
'  A  young  subaltern,  of  excellent  family,  in  unfortunate  circum- 
stances, implores  the  loan  of  a  hundred  pounds  to  save  him  from 
ruin.  Address,  care  of  his  solicitors.'  '  A  young  gentleman, 
handsome,  an  orphan,  of  good  education  and  agreeable  address, 
wishes  to  meet  with  elderly  couple  with  means  (inherited)  who 
would  adopt  him.  Would  make  himself  pleasant  in  the  house. 
Church  of  England  preferred,  but  no  serious  objection  to  Non- 
conformists.' 

We  have  nothing  like  this  in  America.  It  was  a  revelation 
to  me — a  most  private  and  intimate  revelation  of  a  social  body 
that  I  had  always  been  told  no  outsider  could  look  into  without 
the  very  best  introductions.  Of  course,  there  was  the  veil  of 
'A.  B.'  and  '  Lurline,'  and  the  solicitors'  address,  but  that  seemed 
as  thin  and  easily  torn  as  the  '  Morning  Post,'  and  mach  more 
transparent,  showing  all  the  struggling  mass,  with  its  hands 
outstretched,  on  the  other  side.  And  yet  I  have  heard  English 
people  say  how  '  personal '  our  newspapers  are  ! 

My  choice  was  narrowed  considerably  by  so  many  of  the 
addresses  being  other  places  than  London,  which  I  thought 
very  peculiar  in  a  London  newspaper.  Having  come  to  see 
London,  I  did  not  want  to  live  in  Putney,  or  Brixton,  or 
Chelsea,  or  Maida  Vale.  I  supposed  vaguely  that  there  must  be 
cathedrals  or  Roman  remains,  or  attractions  of  some  sort,  in 
these  places,  or  they  would  not  be  advertised  in  London  ;  but 
for  the  time  being,  at  any  rate,  I  intended  to  content  myself 
with  the  capital.  So  1  picked  out  two  or  three  places  near  the 
British  Museum — I  should  be  sure,  I  thought,  to  want  to 
spend  a  great  deal  of  time  there — and  went  to  see  about  them. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  51 

They  were  as  much  the  same  as  the  advertisements  were 
different,  especially  from  the  outside.  From  the  outside  they 
were  exactly  alike — so  much  so  that  I  felt,  after  I  had  seen  them 
all,  that  if  another  boarder  in  the  same  row  chose  to  approach 
me  on  any  occasion,  and  say  that  she  was  me,  I  should  be  entirely 
unable  to  contradict  her.  This  in  itself  was  prejudicial.  In 
America,  if  there  is  one  thing  we  are  particular  about,  it  is  our 
identity.  Without  our  identities  we  are  in  a  manner  nowhere. 
I  did  not  feel  disposed  to  run  the  risk  of  losing  mine  the  minute 
I  arrived  in  England,  especially  as  I  knew  that  it  is  a  thing 
Americans  who  stay  here  for  any  length  of  time  are  extremely 
apt  to  do.  Nevertheless,  I  rang  the  three  door-bells  I  left  the 
Metropole  with  the  intention  of  ringing ;  and  there  were  some 
minor  differences  inside,  although  my  pen  insists  upon  record- 
ing the  similarities  instead.  I  spent  the  same  length  of  time 
upon  the  doorstep,  for  instance,  before  the  same  tumbled  and 
apologetic-looking  servant  girl  appeared,  wiping  her  hands  upon 
her  apron,  and  let  me  into  the  same  little  dark  hall,  with  the 
same  interminable  stairs  twisting  over  themselves  out  of  it,  and 
the  smell  of  the  same  dinner  accompanying  us  all  the  way  up. 
To  be  entirely  just,  it  was  a  wholesome  dinner,  but  there  was  so 
much  of  it  in  the  air  that  I  very  soon  felt  as  if  I  was  dining 
unwarrantably,  and  ought  to  pay  for  it.  In  every  case  the  stair- 
carpet  went  up  two  flights,  and  after  that  there  was  oilcloth, 
rather  forgetful  as  to  its  original  pattern,  and  much  frayed  as  to 
its  edges — and  after  that,  nothing.  Always  pails  and  brushes  on 
the  landings — what  there  is  about  pails  and  brushes  that  should 
make  them  such  a  distinctive  feature  of  boarding-house  landings 
I  don't  know,  but  they  are.  Not  a  single  elevator  in  all  three. 
1  asked  the  servant-girl  in  the  first  place,  about  half-way  up  the 
fourth  flight,  if  there  was  no  elevator?  '  No,  indeed,  miss,'  she  said ; 


52  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

'  I  wishes  there  was !  But  them's  things  you  won't  find  but  very 
seldom  'ere.  We've  'ad  American  ladies  'ere  before,  and  they 
alius  asks  for  'em,  but  they  soon  finds  out  they  ain't  to  be  'ad, 
miss.' 

Now,  how  did  she  know  I  was  an  'American  lady'?  I 
didn't  really  mind  about  the  elevator,  but  this  I  found  annoy- 
ing, in  spite  of  my  desire  to  preserve  my  identity.  In 
the  course  of  conversation  with  this  young  woman,  I  dis- 
covered that  it  was  not  my  own  possibly  prospective  dinner 
that  I  smelt  on  the  stairs.  I  asked  about  the  hour  for  meals. 
'  Aou,  we  never  gives  meals,  miss  ! '  she  said.  '  It's  only  them 
boardin'  'aouses  as  gives  meals  in!  Mrs.  Jones,  she  only  lets 
apartments.  But  there's  a  very  nice  restirong  in  Tottinim 
Court  Road,  quite  convenient,  an'  your  breakfast,  miss,  you 
couldj  'ave  cooked  'ere,  but,  of  course,  it  would  be  hextra,  miss.' 

Then  I  remembered  all  I  had  read  about  people  in  liondon 
living  in  '  lodgings,'  and  having  their  tea  and  sugar  and  butter 
and  eggs  consumed  unrighteously  by  the  landlady,  who  was 
always  represented  as  a  buxom  person  in  calico,  with  a  smut  t)n 
her  face,  and  her  arms  akimbo,  and  an  awful  hypocrite.  For  a 
minute  I  thought  of  trying  it,  for  the  novelty  of  the  experience, 
but  the  loneliness  of  it  made  me  abandon  the  idea.  I  could 
not  possibly  content  myself  with  the  society  of  a  coal-scuttle  and 
two  candlesticks,  and  the  alternative  of  going  round  sightseeing 
by  myself.  Nor  could  I  in  the  least  tell  whether  Mrs.  Jones 
was  agreeable,  or  whether  I  could  expect  her  to  come  up  and 
visit  with  me  sometimes  in  the  evenings ;  besides,  if  she  always 
wore  smuts  and  had  her  arms  akimbo,  I  shouldn't  care  about 
asking  her.  In  America  a  landlady  might  as  likely  as  not  be  a 
member  of  a  Browning  Society,  and  give  '  evenings,'  but  that 
kind  of  landlady  seems  indigenous  to  the  United  States.     And 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  53 

after  Mrs.  Portheris,  I  felt  that  I  required  the  companionship  of 
something  human. 

In  the  other  two  places  I  saw  the  landladies  themselves  in 
their  respective  drawing-rooms  on  the  second  floor.  One  of 
the  drawing-rooms  was  '  draped  '  in  a  way  that  was  quite 
painfully  aesthetic,  considering  the  paucity  of  the  draperies. 
The  flower-pots  were  draped,  and  the  lamps;  there  were 
draperies  round  the  piano-legs,  and  round  the  clock ;  and  where 
there  were  not  draperies  there  were  bows,  all  of  the  same 
scanty  description.  The  only  thing  that  had  not  made  an  effort 
to  clothe  itself  in  the  room  was  the  poker,  and  by  contrast  it 
looked  very  nude.  There  were  some  Japanese  ideas  around  the 
room,  principally  a  paper  umbrella  ;  and  a  big  painted  palm-leaf 
fan  from  India  made  an  incident  in  one  corner.  I  thought, 
even  before  I  saw  the  landlady,  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
live  up  to  a  high  standard  of  starvation  in  that  house,  and  she 
confirmed  the  impression.  She  was  a  Miss  Hippy,  a  short, 
stoutish  person,  with  very  smooth  hair,  thin  lips,  and  a  nose  like 
an  angle  of  the  Pyramids,  preternaturally  neat  in  her  appear- 
ance, with  a  long  gold  watch-chain  round  her  neck.  She  came 
into  the  room  in  a  way  that  expressed  reduced  circumstances 
and  a  protest  against  being  obliged  to  do  it.  I  feel  that  the 
particular  variety  of  smile  she  gave  me  with  her  '  Good 
morning ! ' — although  it  was  after  4  p.m. — was  one  she  kept 
for  the  use  of  boarders  only,  and  her  whole  manner  was  an 
interrogation.  When  she  said,  'Is  it  for  yourself  ? '  in  answer 
to  my  question  about  rooms,  I  felt  that  I  was  undergoing 
a  cross-examination,  the  result  of  which  Miss  Hippy  was  men- 
tally tabulating. 

'  We  }wjV&  a  few  rooms,'  said  Miss  Hippy,  '  certainly.'  Then 
she  cast  her  eyes  upon  the  floor,  and  twisted  her  fingers  up  in 


54  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

lier  watch-chain,  as  if  in  doubt.  *  Shall  you  be  long  in 
London  ? ' 

1  said  I  couldn't  tell  exactly. 

'  Have  you — are  you  a  professional  of  any  kind  ?'  inquired 
Miss  Hippy.  *Not  that  I  object  to  professional  ladies — they 
are  often  very  pleasant.  Madame  Solfreno  resided  here  for 
several  weeks  while  she  was  retrenching  ;  but  Madame  Solfreno 
was,  of  course,  more  or  less  an  exceptional  woman.  She  did 
not  care — at  least,  while  she  was  retrenching — for  the  society  of 
other  professionals,  and  she  said  that  was  the  great  advantage  of 
my  house — none  of  them  ever  would  come  here.  Still,  as  I  say, 
I  have  no  personal  objection  to  professionals.  In  fact,  we  have 
had  head-ladies  here ;  and  real  ladies,  I  must  say,  I  have  gene- 
rally found  them.  Although  hands,  of  course,  I  would  not 
take ! ' 

I  said  I  was  not  a  professional. 

*  Oh  ! '  said  Miss  Hippy,  pitiably  baffled.  *  Then,  perhaps, 
you  are  not  a — a  young  lady.  That  is,  of  course,  one  can  see 
you  are  that ;  but  you  are — you  are  married,  perhaps  ? ' 

*  I  am  not  married,  madame,'  I  said.  '  Have  you  any  rooms 
to  let  ? ' 

Miss  Hippy  rose,  ponderingly.  *  I  might  as  well  show  you 
what  we  have^'  she  said. 

'I  think,'  I  replied,  'that  you  might  as  well.  Otherwise  I 
will  not  detain  you  any  longer.'  At  which,  curiously  enongli, 
all  hesitation  vanished  from  Miss  Elippy's  manner,  and  she 
showed  me  all  her  rooms,  and  expatiated  upon  all  their  advan- 
tages with  a  single  eye  to  pej-suading  me  to  occupy  one  of  them. 
So  comprehensively  voluble  was  she,  indeed,  and  so  impene- 
trably did  she  fill  up  the  door  with  her  broad  person  when  we 
came  down  again,  that  I  found  no  loophole  of  escape  anywhere, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  $5 

and  was  obliged  to  descend  to  equivocal  measures.  'Have 
you  any  rooms,  Miss  Hippy,'  I  inquired,  *  on  the  ground 
floor?* 

'  That,'  returned  Miss  Hippy,  as  if  I  had  put  her  the  only 
possible  question  that  she  was  not  prepared  for,  '  I  have  not.  A 
gentleman  from  the  West  Indies ' — Miss  Hippy  went  on  im- 
pressively—' hardly  ever  without  inflammatory  rheumatism, 
which  you  will  admit  makes  stairs  an  impossibility  for  him, 
occupies  my  only  ground-floor  bedroom — just  off  the  dining- 
room  !  * 

'  That  is  unfortunate,'  I  said,  *  since  I  think  in  this  house  I 
would  prefer  a  room  on  the  ground- floor.  But  if  I  decide  to 
take  one  of  the  others  I  will  let  you  know.  Miss  Hippy.' 

Miss  Hippy's  countenance  fell,  changed,  and  again  became 
expressive  of  doubt — this  time  offensively. 

*  I've  not  asked  for  any  references,'  though,  of  course,  it  is  my 
custom ' 

*  You  will  receive  references,'  I  interrupted,  *  as  soon  as  you 
require  them.  Good  afternoon ! '  We  were  standing  in  the 
hall,  and  Miss  Hippy,  from  force  of  circumstances,  was  obliged 
to  unfasten  the  door ;  but  I  did  not  hear  from  her,  as  I  passed 
out  into  the  street,  any  responsive  *  Good  afternoon  !  * 

My  third  experience  was  quite  antipodal  to  Miss  Hippy. 
Her  parlour  was  Japanesy,  too,  in  places,  but  it  was  mostly 
chipped  ;  and  it  had  a  great  many  rather  soiled  fat  cushions  in 
it,  quite  a  perceptible  odour  of  beer  and  tobacco,  and  a  pair  of 
gentleman's  worked  slippers  under  the  sofa.  The  atmosphere 
was  relaxing  after  Miss  Hippy,  and  suggested  liberality  of  all 
sorts ;  but  the  slippers,  to  say  nothing  of  the  odours,  which 
might  have  floated  in  from  other  regions,  made  it  impossible.  T 
waited  for  the  lady  of  the  house  a  conscious  hypocrite. 
6 


56 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


She  came  in  at  last  voluminously,  rather  out  of  breath   but 
with   great   warmth   of  manner.     '  Do   sit   down ! '    she   said. 


*  1   WAITED    FOR    THE    LADY    OF    THE    HOUSE    A   CONSCIOUS   HYPOCRITE  ' 


*Now,  it  does  seem  strange  !     Only  las'  night,  at  the  table,  we 
were  sayin'  how  much  we  wanted  one  more  lady  boarder !     You 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  $7 

see,  I've  got  four  young  gentlemen  in  the  City  here,  and  of  us 
ladies  there's  just  four,  so  we  sometimes  get  up  a  little  dance 
amongst  ourselves  in  the  evenin's.  It  amuses  the  young  people, 
and  much  better  wear  out  carpets  than  pay  doctors'  bills,  say  I. 
Now,  I  generally  play,  an'  that  leaves  only  three  ladies  for  the 
four  gentlemen,  you  see !  Now,  isn't  it  a  curious  coincidence,' 
she  said,  leaning  forward  with  a  broad  and  confident  smile, 
'  that  you  should  have  come  in  to-day,  j  ust  after  we  were  sayin' 
how  nice  it  would  be  if  there  were  enough  to  get  up  the 
Lancers !  * 

I  bowed  my  acknowledgments. 

'  You  want  a  room  for  yourself,  I  suppose,'  my  hostess  went 
on,  cheerfully.  '  My  top  flat,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  is  every  bit 
taken.  There  isn't  an  inch  of  room  up  there ;  but  I've  got  a 
beautiful  little  apartment  on  the  ground-floor  you  could  use  as 
a  bed-sittin'  room,  lookin'  out  on  what  green  grass  we  have. 
I'll  show  it  to  you  !  ' — and  she  led  me  across  the  hall  to  a  dis- 
mantled cupboard,  the  door  of  which  she  threw  open.  '  That,' 
she  said,  '  you  could  have  for  twenty-five  shillin's  a  week.  Of 
course,  it  is  small,  but  then — so  is  the  price  ! '  and  she  smiled  the 
cheerful,  accustomed  smile  that  went  with  the  joke.  '  I've  another 
up  here,'  she  said,  leading  the  way  to  the  first  landing,  '  rather 
bigger — thirty  shillin's.  You  see,  they're  both  bein'  turned  out 
at  present,  so  it's  rather  unfavourable  ! ' — and  the  lady  drew  in 
the  deep  breath  she  had  lost  going  up  the  stairs. 

I  could  think  of  only  one  thing  to  say  :  '  I  believe  you  said 
your  top  flat  was  all  taken,'  I  remarked  amiably.  She  was  such 
a  good-natured  soul,  I  couldn't  bear  to  say  anything  that  would 
hurt  her  feelings.  '  That  is  unfortunate.  I  particularly  wanted 
a  room  in  a  top  flat.  But  if  I  decide  on  one  of  these  others  I'll 
let  you  know  ! '     There  were  two  fibs,  and  diametrically  opposed 


58  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

fibs,  within  half  an  hour,  and  I  know  it's  excessively  wrong  to 
fib ;  but,  under  the  circumstances,  what  could  you  say  ? 

'  Do,  miss.  And,  though  I  wouldn't  for  the  world  persuade 
you,  I  certainly  hope  you  will,  for  I'm  sure  you'd  make  a  very 
pleasant  addition  to  our  party.  I'll  just  let  you  out  myself.* 
And  she  did. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  59 


VI 

I  DROVE  straight  back  to  the  M6tropole,  very  thankful  indeed 
that  that  was  evidently  the  thing  to  do  next.  If  there  had 
been  no  evident  thing  to  do  next,  I  was  so  depressed  in  my  mind 
that  I  think  I  would  have  taken  a  ticket  to  Liverpool  that  night, 
and  ray  passage  to  New  York  on  the  first  steamer  that  was  leaving. 
I  won't  say  what  I  did  in  the  cab,  but  I  spoilt  a  perfectly  new 
veil  doing  it.  London  seemed  dingy  and  noisy,  and  puzzling 
and  unattractive,  and  always  going  to  rain.  I  thought  of  our 
bright  clear  air  in  Chicago,  and  our  nice  clean  houses,  and  our 
street-cars,  and  our  soda-water  fountains,  and  poppa  and  momma, 
and  always  knowing  everybody  and  what  to  do  under  every 
circumstance  ;  and  all  the  way  to  the  Metropole  I  loved  Chicago 
and  I  hated  London.  But  there  was  the  Metropole,  big  and  solid 
and  luxurious,  and  a  fact  I  understood ;  and  there  was  the  nice 
respectful  housemaid  on  my  corridor — it  would  be  impossible  to 
convince  you  how  different  servants  are  with  us — and  a  delight- 
ful little  fire  in  my  room,  and  a  tin  pitcher  of  hot  water  smoking 
in  the  basin,  and  a  sort  of  air  of  being  personally  looked  aftei 
that  was  very  comforting  to  my  nerves.  While  I  was  getting 
ready  for  dinner  I  analysed  my  state  of  mind,  and  blamed  my- 
self severely,  for  I  found  that  I  could  not  justify  one  of  the  dis- 
ai^reeable  things  I  had  been  thinking  in  any  philosophical  way. 
I  had  simply  allowed  the  day's  experiences,  capped  by  my  rela- 
tion in  the  morning,  to  overcome  my  entire  nerve-system,  which 


6o  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

was  childish  and  unreasonable.  I  wished  then,  and  often  since* 
that  Providence  had  given  us  a  more  useful  kind  of  nerve- 
system  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic — something  constructed 
solidly,  on  the  British  plan  ;  and  just  as  I  was  wishing  that  there 
came  a  rap.  A  rap  has  comparatively  no  significance  until  it 
comes  at  your  bedroom  door  when  you  are  alone  in  a  big  hotel 
two  thousand  five  hundred  miles  from  home.  Then  it  means 
something.  This  one  meant  two  cards  on  a  salver  and  a  mes- 
sage. One  of  the  cards  read  :  '  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris,'  wit  h 
'  Miss  PurJciss '  written  under  it  in  pencil ;  the  other,  '  Mr. 
Charles  Mafferton,'  with  '  49,  Hertford  Street,  May  fair,'  in  one 
corner,  and  '  The  Isthmian  Club  '  in  the  other. 

'  Is  she  there  now  ?  '  I  asked  the  servant  in  acute  suspense. 

'  No,  miss.  The  ladies,  they  called  about  'alf-past  three, 
and  we  was  to  say  that  one  lady  was  to  be  'ere  again  to-morrow 
mornin'  at  ten,  miss.     The  gentleman,  he  didn't  leave  no  mes- 


Then  my  heart  beat  again,  and  joyfully,  for  I  knew  that  I 
had  missed  my  relation  and  Miss  Purkiss,  and  that  the  way  of 
escape  was  still  open  to  me,  although  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning 
was  rather  early  to  be  obliged  to  go  out.  I  must  say  I  thought 
it  extremely  foolish  of  Miss  Purkiss  to  have  mentioned  the  hour 
— it  was  like  a  fox  making  an  appointment  with  a  rabbit,  a 
highly  improbable  thing  for  the  rabbit  to  keep.  And  I  went 
downstairs  feeling  quite  amused  and  happy,  and  determined  to 
stay  amused  and  happy.  My  unexpected  reward  for  this  came 
at  dinner,  when  I  discovered  my  neighbours  to  be  two  delight- 
ful ladies  from  St.  Pa;ul,  Minn.,  with  whom  I  conversed  sociably 
there,  and  later  in  the  drawing-room.  They  had  known  Dr. 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  ;  but  what  to  my  eyes  gave  them  an 
added  charm  was  their  amiable  readiness  to  know  me.     1  was 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  6i 

made  to  promise  that  I  would  send  them  my  address  when  I 
was  settled,  and  to  this  day  I  suffer  from  unquieted  pangs  of 
conscience  because  I  failed  to  keep  my  word. 

By  ten  o'clock  next  morning  I  was  in  Cockspur  Street,  Pall 
Mall,  looking  for  the  *  Lady  Guides'  Association.'  The  name  in 
white  letters  on  the  window  struck  me  oddly  when  I  found  it. 
The  idea,  the  institution  it  expressed,  seemed  so  grotesquely  of 
to-day  there  in  the  heart  of  old  London,  where  almost  everything 
you  see  talks  of  orthodoxy  and  the  approval  of  the  centuries. 
Ithad  the  impertinence  that  a  new  building  has  going  up  among 
your  smoky  old  piles  of  brick  and  mortar.  You  will  understand 
my  natural  sympathy  with  it.  The  minute  I  went  in  I  felt  at 
home. 

There  were  several  little  desks  in  several  little  adjoining, 
compartments,  with  little  muslin  curtains  in  front  of  them,  and 
ladies  and  ink-bottles  inside,  like  a  row  of  shrouded  canary- 
cages.  T^^o  or  three  more  ladies,  without  their  things  on,  were 
running  round  outside,  and  several  others,  with  their  things  on, 
were  being  attended  to.  I  saw  only  one  little  man,  who  was 
always  getting  out  of  the  ladies'  way,  and  didn't  seem  properly 
to  belong  there.  There  was  no  label  attached,  so  1  couldn't  tell 
what  use  they  made  of  him,  but  I  should  like  to  have  known. 

The  desks  were  all  lettered  plainly — one  '  Lady  Guides,'  the 
next  *  Tickets  for  the  Theatre,'  and  so  on  ;  but,  of  course,  I  went 
to  the  first  one  to  inquire,  without  taking  any  notice  of  that — 
people  always  do.  I  think,  perhaps,  the  lady  was  more  polite 
in  referring  me  to  the  proper  one  than  the  man  would  have  been. 
She  smiled,  and  bowed  encouragingly  as  she  did  it,  and  explained 
particularly,  '  the  lady  with  the  eyeglasses  and  her  hair  done  up 
high — do  you  see  ?  '  I  saw,  and  went  to  the  right  lady.  She 
smiled,  too,  in  a  real  winning  way,  looking  up  from  her  entry- 


62  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

book,  and  leaning  forward  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say.  Then  she 
came  into  my  confidence,  as  it  were,  at  once.  '  What  you  want,' 
she  said,  '  is  a  boarding-house  or  private  hotel.  We  have  all 
the  best  private  hotels  on  our  books,  but  in  your  case,  being 
alone,  what  I  should  advise  would  be  a  thoroughly  well-recom- 
mended, first-class  boarding-house.' 

I  said  something  about  a  private  family — '  Or  a  private 
family,'  added  the  lady,  acquiescently.  '  Now,  we  can  give  you 
whichever  you  prefer.  Suppose,'  she  said,  with  the  kindly 
interested  counsel  of  good-fellowship,  dropping  her  voice  a  little, 
*  I  write  you  out  several  addresses  of  both  hinds^  then  you  can 
just  see  for  yourself — and  the  lady  looked  at  me  over  her  eye- 
glasses most  agreeably. 

'  Why,  yes  ! '  I  said.  *  I  think  that's  a  very  good  idea ! ' 
'  Well  now,  just  wait  a  miuute  ! '  the  lady  said,  turning  over 
the  pages  of  another  big  book.  *  There's  a  great  deal,  as  you 
probably  know,  in  locality  in  London.  We  must  try  aud  get 
you  something  in  a  nice  locality.  Piccadilly,  for  instance,  is  a 
very  favourite  locality — I  think  we  have  something  in  Half- 
Moon  Street ' 

*  Gracious !  '  I  said.  *  No  !  not  Half-Moon  Street,  please.  I 
— I've  been  there.     I  don't  like  that  locality  ! ' 

*  Really ! '  said  the  lady,  with  surprise.  '  Well,  you  wouldn't 
believe  what  the  rents  are  in  Half-Moon  Street !  But  we  can 
easily  give  you  something  else — the  other  side  of  the  Park, 
perhaps  ! ' 

*  Yes,'  I  said,  earnestly.  *  Quite  the  other  side,  if  you 
please ! ' 

*  Well,'  returned  the  lady,  abstractedly  running  her  finger 
down  the  page,  '  there's  Mrs.  Pragge,  in  Holland  Park  Gardens 
— have  you  any  objection  to  children  ? — and  Miss  Camblewell, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  63 

in  Lancaster  Gate,  very  clean  and  nice.  I  think  we'll  put  iliem 
down.  And  then  two  or  three  private  ones — excuse  me  one 
minute.  There !  I  think  among  those/  with  sudden  gravity, 
'  you  ought  to  find  something  suitable  at  from  two  to  three-and- 
a-half  guineas  per  week ;  but  if  you  do  not,  be  sure  to  come  in 
again.  We  always  like  to  give  our  clients  satisfaction.'  The 
lady  smiled  again  in  that  pardonable,  endearing  way  ;  and  I  was 
so  pleased  with  her,  and  with  myself,  and  with  the  situation,  and 
felt  such  warm  comfort  as  the  result  of  the  interview,  that  I 
wanted  badly  to  shake  hands  with  her  when  I  said  Good-morn- 
ing. But  she  was  so  engaged  that  I  couldn't,  and  had  to  content 
myself  with  only  saying  it  very  cordially.  As  I  turned  to 
go  I  saw  a  slightly  blank  expression  come  over  her  face,  and 
she  coughed  with  some  embarrassment,  leaning  forward  as  if  to 
speak  to  me  again.  But  I  was  too  near  the  door,  so  one  of  the 
ladies  who  were   running   about   detained   me   apologetically. 

*  There  is  a — a  charge,'  she  said,  '  of  two-and-sixpence.  You 
did   not  know.'      So   I   went   back  uncomfortably  and   paid. 

*  Thanks,  yes ! '  said  the  lady  in  the  cage.  '  T<^o-and-six  !  No, 
that  is  two  shillings,  a  florin,  you  see — and  that  is  four — it's 
half-a-crown  we  want,  isn't  it  ?  '  very  amiably,  considering  all  the 
trouble  I  was  giving  her.  '  Perhaps  you  are  not  very  well 
accustomed  to  our  English  currency  yet,'  as  I  finally  counted 
out  one  shilling,  two  sixpences,  a  threepence,  and  six  half- 
pennies. If  there  is  a  thing  in  this  country  that  needs  reform- 
ing more  than  the  House  of  Lords — but  there,  it  isn't  to  be 
supposed  that  you  would  like  my  telling  you  about  it.  At  all 
events,  T  managed  in  the  end  to  pay  my  very  proper  fee  to  the 
Lady  Guides'  Association,  and  I  sincerely  hope  that  any  of  its 
members  who  may  happen  to  read  this  chapter  will  believe  that  I 
never  endeavoured  to  evade  it.     The  slight  awkwardness  of  the 


64  AN  AMERICAN   GIRL   IN  LONDON 

mistake  turned  out  rather  pleasantly  for  me,  because  it  led  rae 
into  further  conversation  with  the  lady  behind  the  eyeglasses, 
in  which  she  asked  me  whether  I  wouldn't  like  to  look  over 
their  establishment.  I  said  Yes,  indeed  ;  and  one  of  the  outside 
ladies,  a  very  capable-looking  little  person,  with  a  round  face 
and  short,  curly  hair,  was  told  off  to  take  me  upstairs.  I 
hadn't  been  so  interested  for  a  long  time.  There  was  the  club- 
room,  where  ladies  belonging  to  the  Association  could  meet  or 
make  appointments  with  other  people,  or  write  letters  or  read 
the  papers,  and  the  restaurant,  where  they  could  get  anything 
they  wanted  to  eat.  I  am  telling  you  all  this  because  I've  met 
numbers  of  people  in  London  who  only  know  enough  about  tlie 
Lady  Guides'  Association  to  smile  when  it  is  mentioned,  and  to 
say,  '  Did  you  go  there  .? '  in  a  tone  of  great  amusement,  which, 
considering  it  is  one  of  your  own  institutions,  strikes  me  as 
curious.  And  it  is  such  an  original,  personal,  homelike  institu- 
tion, like  a  little  chirping  busy  nest  between  the  eaves  of  the 
great  unconcerned  City  offices  and  warehouses,  that  it  is  interest- 
ing to  know  more  about  than  that,  I  think.  The  capable 
little  lady  seemed  quite  proud  of  it  as  she  ushered  me  from  one 
room  into  the  next,  and  especially  of  the  bedrooms,  which  were 
divided  from  one  another  by  pretty  chintz  hangings,  and  where 
at  least  four  ladies,  ^  arriving  strange  from  the  country,  and  else- 
where,' could  be  tucked  away  for  the  night.  That  idea  struck 
me  as  perfectly  sweet,  and  I  wished  very  sincerely  I  had  known 
of  it  before.  It  seemed  to  offer  so  many  more  advantages  than 
the  Metropole.  Of  course,  I  asked  any  number  of  questions 
about  the  scope  and  working  of  the  Association,  and  the  little 
lady  answered  them  all  with  great  fluency.  It  was  nice  to  hear 
of  such  extended  usefulness— how  the  Lady  Guides  engage 
governesses,  or  servants,  or  seats  at  the  theatre,  and  provide 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  65 

dinners  and  entertainments,  and  clothes  to  wear  at  them,  and 
suitable  manners  ;  and  take  care  of  children  by  the  day — I  ao 
not  remember  whether  the  little  lady  said  tliey  undertook  to 
bring  them  up — and  furnish  eyes  and  understanding,  certified, 
to  all  visitors  in  London,  at  '  a  fixed  tariff' — all  except  gentle- 
men unaccompanied  by  their  families.  '  Such  clients,'  the  little 
lady  said,  with  a  shade  of  sadness,  I  fancied,  that  there  should 
be  any  limitation  to  the  benevolence  of  the  Association,  '  the 
Lady  Guide  is  compelled  to  decline.  It  is  a  great  pity — we 
have  so  many  gentleman-applicants,  and  there  would  be,  of 
course,  no  necessity  for  sending  young  lady -guides  out  with 
them — we  have  plenty  of  elderly  ones,  widows  and  so  on  ;  but ' 
— and  here  the  little  lady  grew  confidentially  deprecating — '  it 
is  thought  best  not  to.  You  see,  it  would  get  into  the  papers, 
and  the  papers  might  chaff,  and,  of  course,  in  our  position  we 
can't  afford  to  be  made  ridiculous.  But  it  is  a  great  pity  ! ' — and 
the  little  lady  sighed  again.  I  said  I  thought  it  was,  and  asked 
if  any  special  case  had  been  made  of  any  special  entreaty. 
*  One,'  she  admitted,  in  a  justifying  tone.  '  A  gentlemau  from 
Japan.  He  told  us  he  never  would  have  come  to  England  if  he 
had  not  heard  of  our  Association,  being  a  perfect  stranger,  with- 
out a  friend  in  the  place.' 

'  And  unacquainted  with  English  prejudices,'  I  put  in. 

'  Quite  so.     And  what  could  we  do  ? ' 

'  What  did  you  do  ?  '  I  inquired. 

'  We  sent  two  /'  responded  the  little  lady,  triumphing  once 
more  over  the  situation.  '  Nobody  could  say  an<//thing  to  that. 
And  he  was  such  a  pleasant  little  man,  and  thanked  us  so 
cordially.' 

'  Did  you  find  him  intelligent  ?  '  I  asked. 

*  Very.'     But  the  little  lady's  manner  was  growing  rather 


66 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


fidgety,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  I  was  taking  more 
information  than  I  was  entitled  to  for  two-and-six.  So  I 
went  reluctantly  downstairs,  wishing  there  was  something  else 


WE    SENT    TWO 


that  the  lady-guides  could  do  for  me.  A  little  black-eyed  woman 
down  there  was  giving  some  very  businesslike  orders.  '  Half 
a  day's  shopping  ?     I  should  say  send  Miss  Stuart  Saville.     And 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  67 

tell  her  to  be  very  particular  about  her  accounts.  Has  Mrs. 
Mason  got  that  private  ward  yet  ? ' 

*  That,'  said  my  little  cicerone,  in  a  subdued  tone,  *  is  our 
manageress.     She  planned  the  whole  thing.     Wonderful  head  ! ' 

'  Is  that  so  ? '  I  remarked.  *  I  should  like  to  congratulate 
her.' 

*  I'm  afraid  there  isn't  time,'  she  returned,  looking  flurried  ; 

*  and  the  manageress  doesn't  approve  of  anybody  wasting  it. 
Will  you  write  your  name  in  our  visitors'  book  ? ' 

'  With  pleasure,'  I  said ;  *  and  I'll  come  again  whenever  I 
feel  that  I  want  anything.'  And  I  wrote  my  name — badly,  of 
course,  as  people  always  do  in  visitors'  books,  but  with  the 
lively  satisfaction  people  always  experience  in  writing  their 
names — why,  I've  never  been  able  to  discover.  I  passed  the 
manageress  on  my  way  out.  She  was  confronting  a  pair  of  ladies, 
an  old  and  a  young  one,  in  black,  who  leaned  on  their  parasols 
with  an  air  of  amiable  indecision,  and  falteringly  addressed  her : 

*  I  had  a  day  and  a  half  last  week,'  one  of  them  said,  rather 

weakly;  4s  there? — do  you  want  me  for  anything  this ?  ' 

The  manageress  looked  at  her  with  some  impatience.  'If  I 
want  you  I'll  send  for  you,  Miss  Gypsum,'  she  said.  The  door 
closed  upon  me  at  that  moment,  so  I  don't  know  how  Miss 
Gypsum  got  away. 

As  for  me,  I  walked  through  Cockspur  Street  and  through 
Waterloo  Place,  and  so  into  Piccadilly,  reflecting  upon  Mrs. 
Pragge,  and  Miss  Camblewell,  and  all  their  uncertainties. 
Standing  in  the  lee  of  a  large  policeman  on  one  of  your  valuable 
iron  refuges  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  a  flounced  black-and- 
white  parasol  suddenly  shut  down  almost  in  my  face.  The  lady 
belonging  to  it  leaned  over  her  carriage  and  said  :  '  How  d'ye 
do,  Miss ?    Dear  me,  how  stupid  I  am  about  names !     Miss 


68  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Chica  go-young-lady- who- ran-away-witliout-getting-my -address? 
Now  I've  found  you,  just  pop  in ' 

'  I  must  ask  you  to  drive  on,  madam,'  the  policeman  said. 

'  As  soon  as  this  young  lady  has  popped  in.  There  !  Now, 
my  dear,  what  did  the  relation  say  ?  I've  been  longing  to 
know.' 

And  before  I  realised  another  thing  I  was  rolling  up  Regent 
Street  statefully  in  the  carringe  of  Mrs.  'Lorquilin. 


AJS  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


6g 


VII 


A 


EE    you    going   there    now  ? '    Mrs.    Torquilin    went    on. 
'  Because  I'm   onlj   out   for    an   airing,   I  can   drop  you 

anywhere  yoa  like.' 
'  Oh,      by      no 
means,  thank   you, 
Mrs.    Torquilin,'    I 
,_^_^^_  ,  said ;      '  I've    been 

^^ShHIIHBJ^^T  'd^^       there  already.' 


I  CAN    DROP    YOU    ANYWHERE    YOU    LIKE 


70  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Mrs.  Torquilin  looked  at  me  with  an  extraordinary  expres- 
sion. On  top  it  was  conscientiously  shocked,  underneath  it  was 
extremely  curious,  amused  by  anticipation,  and,  through  it  all, 
kindly. 

*  You  don't  get  on,'  she  said.  *  What  did  I  tell  you  ? 
"Mark  my  words,"  I  said  to  Charlie  Mafferton,  "that  child 
knows  nothing  of  what  is  ahead  of  her ! "  But  pray  go  on. 
What  happened  ? ' 

I  went  on,  and  told  Mrs.  Torquilin  what  happened  a  good 
deal  as  I  have  told  you,  but  I  am  afraid  not  so  properly, 
because  she  was  very  much  amused;  and  I  suppose  if  the 
story  of  my  interview  with  Mrs.  Portheris  excited  any  feeling  in 
your  mind,  it  was  one  of  sympathy  for  me.  At  least,  that  was 
what  I  intended.  But  I  was  so  happy  in  Mrs.  Torquilin's 
carriage,  and  so  delighted  to  be  talking  to  somebody  I  knew, 
that  I  made  as  funny  an  account  of  the  tender  greetings  of  my 
relation  as  I  could,  and  it  lasted  all  the  way  to  the  M^tropole, 
where  I  was  to  be  dropped.  I  referred  to  her  always  as  '  my 
relation,*  because  Mrs.  Torquilin  seemed  to  enjoy  the  expression. 
Incidentally,  too,  I  told  her  about  my  plans,  and  showed  her 
the  addresses  I  had  from  the  lady-guide,  and  she  was  kind 
enough  to  say  that  if  I  did  not  find  them  satisfactory  I  must  let 
her  know,  and  she  could  send  me  to  a  person  of  her  acquaintance, 
where  I  should  be  *  very  comfy,  dear ' ;  and  I  believed  her.  '  You 
see,'  she  said,  *  I  should  like  to  take  a  little  interest  in  your 
plans,  because  you  seem  to  be  the  only  really  American  girl 
I've  come  upon  in  the  whole  course  of  my  travels.  The  New  York 
ones  were  all  English  imitations — I  had  no  patience  with  them.' 

'  Oh ! '  I  responded,  cheerfully,  '  that's  only  on  the  outside, 
Mrs.  Torquilin.  If  you  ran  down  the  Stars  and  Stripes  I  guess 
you  would  find  them  pretty  American.* 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  71 

*  Well,  yes,'  Mrs.  Torqiiilin  admitted,  '  I  remember  that  was 
the  case ' ;  but  just  then  we  stopped  in  front  of  the  Metropole, 
and  I  begged  her  to  come  in  and  lunch  with  me.  '  Dear  me, 
child,  no  ;  I  must  be  off !  '  she  said  ;  but  I  used  all  the  persuasion 
I  could,  and  represented  how  dreadfully  lonely  it  was  for  me, 
and  Mrs.  Torquilin  hesitated.  At  the  moment  of  her  hesitation 
there  floated  out  from  the  dining-room  a  most  appetising 
suggestion  of  fried  soles.  What  small  matters  contribute  to 
important  results  !  I  don't  know  anything  that  I  have  more 
cause  to  be  grateful  to  than  that  little  wandering  odour.  For 
Mrs.  Torquilin,  encountering  it,  said,  with  some  feeling,  '  Poor 
child.  I've  no  doubt  it  is  lonely  for  you.  Perhaps  I  really 
ought  to  cheer  you  up  a  bit  —I'll  come  ! ' 

And  Mrs.  Torquilin  and  I  pursued  the  wandering  odour  into 
the  dining-room. 

We  had  a  particularly  good  lunch,  and  we  both  enjoyed  it 
immensely,  though  Mrs.  Torquilin  made  a  fuss  about  my  ordering 
champagne,  and  said  it  was  simply  ruinous,  and  I  really  ought  to 
have  somebody  to  look  after  me.  '  By  the  way,'  she  said, 
'  have  you  seen  anything  of  the  Maffertons  ? '  I  told  her  that 
Mr.  Mafferton  had  left  his  card  the  afternoon  before,  but  I  was 
out.  'You  were  out?'  said  Mrs.  Torquilin.  'What  a  pity  !  ' 
I  said  no  ;  I  wasn't  very  sorry,  because  I  felt  so  unsettled  in  my 
mind  that  I  was  sure  I  couldn't  work  myself  up  to  an  intelligent 
discussion  of  any  of  Mr.  Mafferton's  favourite  subjects,  and  he 
would  hardly  have  found  much  pleasure  in  his  visit.  '  Oh  !  I 
think  he  would,'  said  Mrs.  Torquilin.  '  What  on  earth  has 
"  intelligent  discussion  "  to  do  with  it  ?  I  know  the  Maffertons 
very  well,'  she  went  on,  looking  at  me  quite  sharply.  '  Excel- 
lent family — cousins  of  Lord  Mafferton  of  Mafferton.  Charlie 
has  enough,  but  not  too  much,  I  should  say.  However,  that's 
G 


72  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

neither  here  nor  there,  for  he  has  no  expensive  habits,  to  tmj 
knowledge.' 

'  Just  imagine,'  I  said,  '  his  being  cousin  to  a  lord !  And 
yet  he's  not  a  bit  haughty  !  Have  you  ever  seen  the  lord,  Mrs. 
Torquilin  ? ' 

'  Bless  the  child,  yes  !  Gone  down  to  dinner  with  him  more 
than  once  I  Between  ourselves,'  said  Mrs.  Turquilin,  confi- 
dentially, '  he's  an  old  brute — neither  more  nor  less  !  But  one 
can't  be  rude  to  the  man.  What  he'll  have  to  say  to  it  heaven 
only  knows!  But  Charlie  is  quite  capable  of  snapping  his 
fingers  at  him.     Do  have  one  of  these  ices.' 

1  was  immensely  interested.  '  What  has  Mr.  Mafferton  been 
doing  ?  '  I  asked. 

'  IVe  no  reason  to  believe  he's  done  it  yet,'  said  Mrs.  Tor- 
quilin, a  little  crossly  I  thought.     '  Perhaps  he  won't.' 

'  I'm  sure  I  hope  not,'  I  returned.  '  Mr.  Mafferton  is  so 
nice  that  it  would  be  a  pity  if  he  got  into  trouble  with  his  rela- 
tions, especially  if  one  of  them  is  a  lord.' 

'  Then  don't  let  him  ! '  said  Mrs.  Torquilin,  more  crossly  than 
before. 

'  Do  you  think  I  would  have  any  influence  with  him  ? '  I 
asked  her.  '  I  should  doubt  it  very  much.  Mr.  Maflf'erton 
doesn't  strike  me  as  a  person  at  all  susceptible  to  ladies' 
influence.  But,  if  I  knew  the  circumstances,  1  might 
try.' 

'  Oh,  come  along,  child  ! '  Mrs.  Torquilin  returned,  folding  up 
the  napkin.  '  You're  too  stupid.  I'll  see  the  Mpfiertons  in  a 
day  or  two,  and  I'll  tell  them  what  I  think  of  you.  Is  there 
nothing  else  you'll  have  ?  Then  let  us  depart,  and  make  room  for 
somebody  else.'  And  I  followed  Mrs.  Torquilin  out  of  the  room 
with  a  vague  consciousness  that  she  had  an  important  voice  in 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


73 


the  management  of  the  hotel,  and  had  been  kind  enough  to  give 
me  my  lunch. 

My  friend  did  not  take  leave  of  me  in  the  hall.  '  I'd  like  to 
see  the  place,'  she  said.  '  Take  me  up  into  the  drawing- 
room.' 

Mrs.  Torquilin  admired  the  drawing-room  very  much. 
'  Sumptuous  ! '    she    said,    '  Sumptuous  ! '      And    as    I   walked 


'  ONE    OF    THE    LADIES   WAS    SITTING    BOLT    UPKIGHT,    WITH   A   STEKN,    MAJESTIC   EYE  ' 

round  it  with  her  I  felt  a  particular  kind  of  pleasure  in  being 
the  more  familiar  with  it  of  the  two,  and  a  little  pride,  too,  in 
its  luxury,  which  I  had  always  been  told  was  specially  designed 
to  suit  Americans.  I  was  so  occupied  with  these  feelings  and 
with  Mrs.  Torquilin's  remarks,  that  I  did  not  observe  two  ladies 
on  a  sofa  at  the  end  of  the  room  until  we  were  almost  in  front 
of  them.  Then  I  noticed  that  one  of  the  ladies  was  sitting  bolt 
upright,  with  a  stern,  majestic  eye  fixed  full  upon  me,  apparently 


74  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

frozen  with  indignation ;  I  also  noticed  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Portheris.  The  other  lady,  in  rusty  black,  as  I  knew  she  would 
be,  occupied  the  farther  end  of  the  sofa,  very  much  wilted 
indeed. 

'  Miss  Wick,'  said  Mrs.  Portheris,  portentously,  standing  up, 
^  I  have  been  shopping  in  the  interval,  but  my  friend  Miss 
Purkiss — this  is  Miss  Purkiss  ;  Miss  Purkiss,  this  is  Miss  Wick, 
the  connection  from  Chicago  whom  you  so  kindly  consented  to 
try  to  befriend — Miss  Purkiss  has  been  here  since  ten  o'clock. 
You  will  excuse  her  rising — she  is  almost,  I  might  say,  in  a  state 
of  collapse ! ' 

I  turned  round  to  Mrs.  Torquilin. 

'  Mrs.  Torquilin,'  I  said,  '  this  is  my  relation,  Mrs.  Portheris. 
Mrs.  Portheris — Mrs.  Torquilin.'  In  America  we  always  intro- 
duce. 

But  I  was  astonished  at  the  change  in  Mrs.  Torquilin.  She 
seemed  to  have  grown  quite  two  inches  taller,  and  she  was  re- 
garding Mrs.  Portheris  through  a  pair  of  eyeglasses  on  a  stick 
in  the  most  inexplicable  manner,  with  her  mouth  set  very  firmly 
indeed  in  a  sort  of  contemptuous  smile. 

'  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris  ! '  she  said.  *  Yes,  I  think  Mrs. 
Cummers  Portheris  knows  me.  You  did  not  tell  me,  dear,  that 
Mrs.  Portheris  was  your  relation — but  you  need  not  tear  that  I 
shall  think  any  the  less  of  you  for  that.' 

'  Heppy,'  said  Mrs.  Portheris,  throwing  up  her  chin,  but 
looking  distinctly  nervous,  '  your  temper  is  much  the  same,  I  am 
sorry  to  see,  as  it  always  was.' 

Mrs.  Torquilin  opened  her  mouth  to  reply,  but  closed  it  again 
resolutely,  with  an  expression  of  infinite  disdain.  Then,  to  my 
surprise,  she  took  a  chair,  in  a  way  that  told  me  distinctly  of 
her  intention  not  to  desert  me.     I  felt  at  the  moment  that  I 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  75 

would  have  given  anything  to  be  deserted — the  situation  was 
so  very  embarrassing.  The  only  thing  I  could  think  of  to  do 
was  to  ask  Miss  Purkiss  if  she  and  Mrs.  Portheris  wouldn't 
have  some  lunch.  Miss  Purkiss  looked  quite  cheerful  for  a 
moment,  and  began  to  unbutton  her  glove  ;  but  her  countenance 
fell  when  my  unfeeling  relation  forbade  her  with  a  look,  and  said  : 

*  Thank  you,  no,  Miss  Wick  !  Having  waited  so  long,  we  can 
easily  manage  without  food  a  little  longer.  Let  us  get  to  our 
arrangements.  Perhaps  Miss  Purkiss  will  tell  Miss  Wick 
what  she  has  to  offer  her.'  Mrs.  Portheris  was  evidently 
trying  to  ignore  Mrs.  Torquilin,  and  sat  offensively,  and  side- 
ways to  her ;  but  she  could  not  keep  the  apprehension  out  of 
her  eye. 

'  Certainly  !  '  I  said  ;  '  but  Miss  Purkiss  must  have  some- 
thing.' I  was  determined  to  decline,  but  I  wished  to  do  it  as 
mercifully  as  possible.  '  Tell  somebody,*  I  said  to  a  servant  who 
had  come  up  to  poke  the  fire,  '  to  bring  up  some  claret  and 
crackers.' 

'  Biscuits,  child,'  put  in  Mrs.  Torquilin,  'is  what  you  mean. 
Biscuits  the  young  lady  means ' — to  the  servant — '  and  be 
sharp  about  it,  for  we  want  to  go  out  immediately.*     Then — 

*  May  I  ask  what  arrangements  you  were  thinking  of  offering 
Miss  Wick  ?  ' — to  Miss  Purkiss. 

Miss  Purkiss  began,  quaveringly,  that  she  had  never  done 
such  a  thing  in  her  life  before,  but  as  Mrs.  Portheris  particularly 
wished  it 

'  For  your  own   good,   Jane,'   interrupted   Mrs.   Portheris ; 

*  entirely  for  your  own  good.     T  don't  call  that  gratitude.' 

Miss  Purkiss  hastily  admitted  that  it  was  for  her  own  good, 
of  course,  and  that  Mrs.  Portheris  knew  her  far  too  well  to 
believe  for  a  moment  that  she  was  not  grateful;  but  I  could 


76  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

have  a  nice  back  bedroom  on  the  second  floor,  and  the  use  of  her 
sitting-room  all  day,  and  I,  being  recommended  by  Mrs.  Pur- 
theris,  she  wouldn't  think  of  many  extras.  Well,  if  there  were 
fires,  lights,  the  use  of  the  bath  and  piano,  boots,  and  friends  to 
meals,  that  would  be  all, 

*  It  is  quite  impossible!*  said  Mrs.  Torquilin.  'I'm  sorry 
you  had  the  trouble  of  coming.  Tn  the  first  place,  I  fear  my 
young  friend^'  with  emphasis  and  a  cursory  glance  at  Mrs.  Por- 
theris's  chair,  '  would  find  it  dull  in  Upper  Baker  Street.  In 
the  second' — Mrs.  Torquilin  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then 
made  the  plunge — '  I  have  taken  a  flat  for  the  season,  and  Miss 
Wick  is  coming  to  me.  I  believe  that  is  our  little  plan,  my 
dear' — with  a  meaning  smile  to  me.  Then  Mrs.  Torquilin 
looked  at  Mrs.  Portheris  as  if  she  were  wondering  whether  there 
could  be  any  discoverable  reason  why  my  relation  should  stay 
any  longer.  Mrs.  Portheris  rose,  routed,  but  with  a  calm  eye 
and  a  steady  front.  '  In  that  case  I  hope  you  will  be  forbearing 
with  her,  Heppy,'  she  said.  '  Remember  that  she  is  a  stranger 
to  our  ways  of  thinking  and  doing,  and  has  probably  never  had 
the  advantages  of  up-bringing  that  you  and  I  have.  I  have  no 
doubt,  however,  that  my  nephew.  Colonel  Wick,  has  done  his 
best  for  her.  As  you  are  probably  aware,  he  is  worth  his 
million.' 

Mrs.  Torquilin  missed  the  sarcasm.  '  Not  I ! '  she  returned, 
coolly  ;  '  but  I'm  sure  I'm  very  glad  to  hear  it,  for  Miss  Wick's 
sake.  As  to  my  temper,  I've  noticed  that  those  know  most 
about  it  who  best  deserve  it.  I  don't  think  you  need  ivorry 
yourself  about  your  young  connection,  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris.' 

*•  No,'  said  I,  meekly ;  *  I  should  hate  to  be  a  weight  on  your 
mind.' 

Mrs.  Portheris  took  my  hand  in  quite  an  affecting  manner. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


11 


'  Then  I  leave  you,  Miss  Wick,'  she  said,  '  to  this  lady — and  to 
Providence.' 


'"then    I   LEAVE    YOU,    MISS    WICK,"    SHE    SAID,    "TO    THIS    LADY — AND   TO 
PROVIDENCE  "  ' 

'  Between  them,'  I  said,  '  I  ought  to  have  a  very  good  time.* 
Mrs.  Portheris  dropped  my  hand.     '  I  feel,'  she  said,  '  that 


78  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

I  have  done  my  part  toward  you ;  but  remember,  if  ever 
you  want  a  home^  Miss  Purkiss  will  take  you  in.  When  in 
doubt * 

*  Play  trumps !  '  said  Mrs.  Torquilin  from  the  window,  where 
she  stood  with  her  back  to  all  of  us.  '  I  always  do.  Is  that 
your  carriage  waiting  outside,  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris  ?' 

'  It  is,'  said  my  relation,  betrayed  into  asperity.  *  I  hope 
you  have  no  objection  to  it ! ' 

'  Oh,  none — not  the  least.  But  the  horses  seem  very 
restive.* 

'  Come,  Miss  Purkiss  ! '  said  my  relation. 

*  The  wine  and  biscuits,  dear  love,'  said  Miss  Purkiss,  '  are 
just  arriving.' 

But  Mrs.  Portheris  was  bowing,  with  stately  indefiniteness, 
to  Mrs.  Torquilin's  back. 

'  Come,  Miss  Purkiss  !  *  she  commanded  again.  *  You  can 
get  a  sandwich  at  the  "  A.  B.  0." ' 

And  Miss  Purkiss  arose  and  followed  my  relation,  which  was 
the  saddest  thing  of  all. 

As  soon  as  they  were  well  out  of  the  room,  Mrs.  Torquilin 
turned  round.  '  I  suppose  you'll  wonder  about  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  all  this  turn-up,'  she  said  to  me,  her  cheeks 
flushed  and  her  eyes  sparkling.  '  It's  a  long  story,  and  I'll  tell 
you  another  time.  But  it  comes  to  this  in  the  end — that 
creature  and  I  married  into  the  same  family.  My  husband  and 
the  late  John  Portheris,  poor  fellow,  were  step-brothers ;  and  that 
old  cat  had  the  impudence — but  there's  no  use  going  into  it 
now.  All  I  have  to  say  is,  she  generally  meets  her  match 
when  she  meets  me.  I'll  put  up  with  no  hanky-panky 
work  from  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris,  my  dear — and  well  she 
knows  it !  * 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  jc) 

'  It  was  certainly  nice  of  you  to  help  me  out  of  the  difficulty, 
Mrs.  Torquilin,'  I  said,  '  for  I'd  rather  go  anywhere  than  to 
Miss  Purkiss's ;  but  I'm  sorry  you  had  to ' 

'  Tell  a  tarradiddle  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it,  my  dear — I  meant  it. 
Two  are  better  than  one,  any  day — I've  plenty  of  room  in  my 
little  flat,  and  if  you  like  to  share  the  expenses,  I'll  not  object. 
At  all  events,  we  can  but  try  it,  and  it  will  be  showing  very 
good  feeling  towards  the  Maffertons.  I'm  not  a  great  hand  for 
junketing,  mind  you,  but  we'll  manage  to  amuse  ourselves  a 
little — a  little  giddy-goating  does  nobody  any  harm.' 

Then  I  kissed  Mrs.  Torquilin,  and  she  kissed  me,  and  I  told 
her  how  extremely  obliged  I  was  to  her,  and  asked  her  if  she  had 
really  considered  it ;  and  Mrs.  Torquilin  said,  wasn't  it  enough 
that  I  should  be  left  to  '  that  woman,'  meaning  my  relation,  and 
that  I  should  come  next  day  to  see  how  we  could  best  arrange 
matters.  'And  while  I  think  of  it,  child,  here  is  my  address,' 
my  friend  continued,  taking  out  her  card-case,  and  watching 
me  very  carefully,  with  a  little  smile  about  her  mouth.  I  looked 
at  it.  I  think  my  embarrassment  gratified  her  a  little ;  for  the 
card  read,  '  Lady  Torquilin^  102  Cadogan  Mansions,  S.W.'  I 
didn't  know  what  to  say.  And  I  had  been  calling  a  lady  of 
title  '  Mrs.'  all  this  time  !  Still,  I  reflected,  she  would  hardly 
have  been  so  nice  to  me  if  I  had  offended  her  very  much,  and 
if  she  had  been  particular  about  her  title  she  could  have  men- 
tioned it. 

'  It  seems,'  I  said,  '  that  I  have  been  making  a  mistake.  I 
expected  to  make  mistakes  in  this  country ;  but  I'm  sorry  I 
began  with  you.' 

'  Nonsense,  child  ! '  she  returned.  '  It  was  just  my  little 
joke — and  I  made  Charlie  Mafferton  keep  it.  There's  precious 
little  in  the  handle  I  assure  you — except  an  extra  half-crown  in 


So  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

one's  bills ! '     And  Lady  Torquilin  gave  me  her  hand  to  say 
good-bye. 

*  Good-bye,'  I  said  ;  *  I  think  handles  are  nice  all  the  same.* 
And  then — it  is  an  uncomfortable  thing  to  write,  but  it  hap- 
pened— I  thought  of  something.  I  was  determined  to  make  no 
more  mistakes  if  asking  would  prevent  it. 

'  Please  tell  me,'  I  said,  '  for  you  see  I  can't  possibly  know — 
am  I  to  call  you  "  your  ladyship,"  or  "  my  lady  *'  ? ' 

*  Now  don't  talk  rubbish  ! '  said  Lady  Torquilin.  '  You're 
to  call  me  by  my  name.  You  are  too  quaint.  Be  a  good  child 
— and  don't  be  late  to-morrow.' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL    IN  LONDON 


VllI 

'  TF  I  only  tad  my  own  house  in  Portman  Street/  Lady  Torquilin 
JL  remarked  next  day  when  we  were  having  our  tea  in  her 
flat,  '  I  could  make  you  a  great  deal  more  comfy.  Here  we 
are  just  a  bit  cramped — "  crowded,"  as  you  say  in  America. 
But  you  can't  eat  your  cake  and  have  it  too/ 

'  Which  have  you  done,  Lady  Torquilin,'  I  inquired,  '  with 
your  cake  ? ' 

'  Let  it,'  said  my  friend — '  twenty-five  guineas  a  week,  my 
dear,  which  is  something  to  a  poor  woman.  Last  season  it 
only  brought  twenty,  and  cost  me  a  fortune  to  get  it  clean  again 
after  the  pigs  who  lived  in  it.  For  the  extra  five  I  have  to  be 
thankful  to  the  Duchess.' 

'  Did  you  really  let  it  to  a  Duchess  ? '  I  asked,  with  deep 
interest.     *  How  lovely ! ' 

'  Indeed  I  did  not !  But  the  Duchess  came  to  live  round 
the  corner,  and  rents  went  up  in  consequence.  You  don't 
know  what  it  means  to  property-owners  in  London  to  have  a 
duchess  living  round  the  corner,  my  child.  It  means  every- 
thing. Not  that  I'm  freehold  in  Portman  Street  —I've  only  a 
lease,'  and  Lady  Torquilin  sighed.  This  led  us  naturally  into 
matters  of  finance,  and  we  had  a  nice,  sensible,  practical  discus- 
sion about  our  joint  expenses.  It  doesn't  matter  to  anybody  what 
our  arrangement  was,  but  I  must  say  that  I  found  great  occa- 
sion for  protest  against  its  liberality  t;Owai*ds  me.     '  Nonsense  I ' 


82  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

said  Lady  Torquilin,  invariably  ;  '  don't  be  a  foolish  kitten  !  It's 
probably  less  than  you  would  pay  at  a  good  private  hotel — 
that's  the  advantage  to  you.  Every  time  we  take  a  hansom  it 
will  be  only  sixpence  each  instead  of  a  shilling — that's  the 
advantage  to  me ;  and  no  small  advantage  it  is,  for  cabs  are 
my  ruin.  And  you'll  save  me  plenty  of  steps,  I'm  sure,  my 
dear !  So  there,  say  no  more  about  it,  but  go  and  get  your 
boxes.' 

So  I  drove  back  to  the  M^tropole  finally,  and  as  I  locked 
my  last  trunk  I  noticed  a  fresh  card  on  the  mantelpiece.  It 
was  another  of  Mr.  Charles  Mafferton's ;  and  on  the  back  was 
written  in  pencil :  '  I  hope  you  are  meeting  with  no  difficulties. 
Should  be  glad  to  be  of  use  in  any  way.  Please  let  me  know  your 
'permanent  address  as  soon  as  possible,  as  the  mother  and  sisters 
would  like  to  call  upon  you. — G,  M.'  This  was  nice  and  kind 
and  friendly,  and  I  tried  in  vain  to  reconcile  it  with  what  I  had 
heard  of  English  stiffness  and  exclusiveness  and  reserve.  I 
would  write  to  Mr.  Mafferton,  I  thought^  that  very  night.  I 
supposed  that  by  the  mother  he  meant  his  own,  but  it  struck 
me  as  a  curious  expression.  In  America  we  specify  our  parents, 
and  a  reference  to  '  the  mother '  there  would  probably  be  held 
to  refer  back  to  Eve.  But  in  England  you  like  all  kinds  of 
distinguishing  articles,  don't  you  ? 

Lady  Torquilin's  flat  was  a  new  one,  of  the  regular  American 
kind — not  a  second  or  third  floor  in  an  old-fashioned  London 
house — and  had  a  share,  I  am  thankful  to  say,  in  a  primitive 
elevator.  The  elevator  was  very  small,  but  the  man  in  the 
lower  hall  seemed  to  stand  greatly  in  awe  of  it.  '  To  get  them 
there  boxes  up  in  this  'ere  lift,  miss,'  he  said,  when  I  and  my 
trunks  presented  ourselves,  *  she'll  'ave  to  make  three  trips  at 
least' — and  he  looked  at  me  rather  reproachfully.     '  Ware  do 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  83 

you  want  'em  put  out  ? '  I  said,  '  Lady  Torquilin's  flat/ 
'  That's  Number  Four,'  he  commented,  '  a  good  ways  up.  If 
you  wouldn't  mind  a  h'extra  sixpence,  miss,  I  could  get  a  man 
off  the  street  to  'elp  me  with  'em — they  do  be  a  size  ! '  I  said 
by  all  means,  and  presently  my  impedimenta  were  ascending 
with  much  deliberate  circumstance,  one  piece  at  a  time.  The 
acoustic  properties  of  Cadogan  Mansions  are  remarkable. 
Standing  at  the  foot  of  that  elevator,  encouraging  its  labours 
as  it  were,  I  could  not  possibly  help  overhearing  Lady  Torquilin's 
reception  of  my  trunks,  mingled  with  the  more  subdued  voices 
of  her  housemaids.  It  was  such  a  warm  reception,  expressed 
in  such  graphic  terms,  that  I  thought  I  ought  to  be  present 
myself  to  acknowledge  it ;  and  the  man  put  on  two  ordinary- 
sized  valises  next,  to  allow  me  to  go  up  at  the  same  time. 
*  We've  got  our  orders,  miss,  to  be  pertickeler  about  wot  she 
carries,  miss,'  he  said,  when  I  thought  a  trunk  or  two  might 
accompany  me.  '  You  see,  if  anything  went  wrong  with  'er 
works,  miss,  there's  no  say  in'  ware  we'd  be  ! ' — and  we  solemnly 
began  to  rise.  '  Ladies  in  the  Mansions  don't  generally  use  the 
lift  such  a  very  great  deal,'  he  remarked  further,  '  especially 
goin'  down.     They  complain  of  the  sinkin'.' 

'  I  shall  always  go  up  and  down  in  it,'  I  said.  '  I  dou'l 
mind  the  sinking.     I'm  used  to  it.' 

'  Very  well,  miss.  You  'ave  only  to  press  the  button  and 
she'll  come  up  ;  an'  a  great  convenience  you'll  find  'er,  miss,' 
he  returned,  resignedly,  unlocking  the  grated  door  on  Lady 
Torquilin's  flat,  where  my  hostess  stood  with  her  hands  folded, 
and  two  maids  respectfully  behind  her,  regarding  the  first 
instalment  of  my  baggage.  After  she  had  welcomed  me  :  '  It's 
curiosity  in  its  way,'  said  Lady  Torquilin ;  '  but  what's  to  be 
done  with  it,  the  dear  only  knows — unless  we  sublet  it.'     It 


84  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

required  some  strength  of  mind  to  tell  her  that  there  were  two 
more  coming  up.  The  next  one  she  called  an  abnormity,  and 
the  third  she  called  a  bam — simply.  And  I  must  say  my 
trunks  did  look  imposing  in  Lady  Torquilin's  flat.  Finally, 
however,  by  the  exercise  of  ingenuity  on  our  parts  and  muscle 
on  the  maids',  we  got  the  whole  of  my  baggage  '  settled  up,'  as 
Lady  Torquilin  expressed  it,  and  I  was  ready  for  my  first 
approved  and  endorsed  experience  in  your  metropolis. 

It  came  that  afternoon.  '  I  am  going  to  take  you,'  said 
Lady  Torquilin  at  lunch,  *  to  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton's  "  at  home." 
She  likes  Americans,  and  her  parties — "  functions,"  as  society 
idiots  call  it — disgusting  word — are  generally  rather  "swagger," 
as  they  say.  I  daresay  you'll  enjoy  it.  Make  yourself  as  tidy 
as  possible,  mind.  Put  on  your  pretty  grey;  tuck  in  that 
"  fringe "  of  yours  a  bit  too,  my  dear ;  and  be  ready  by  five 
sharp.' 

'  Don't  you  like  my  bangs,  Lady  Torquilin  ?* 

'  Say  your  fringe,  child  ;  people  don't  "  bang  "  in  England 
— except  doors  and  the  piano.  No,  I  can't  say  I'm  fond  of  it. 
What  were  you  given  a  forehead  for,  if  you  were  not  intended 
to  show  it?  I  fancy  I  see  Sir  Hector,  when  he  was  alive, 
allowing  me  to  wear  a  fringe ! '  And  Lady  Torquilin  pushed 
my  hair  up  in  that  fond,  cheerful,  heavy-handed  way  people 
have,  that  makes  you  back  away  nervously  and  feel  yourself  a 
fright.  I  went  to  my  room  wondering  whether  my  affection 
for  Lady  Torquilin  would  ever  culminate  in  the  sacrifice  of  my 
bangs.     I  could  not  say,  seriously,  that  I  felt  equal  to  it  then. 

We  went  to  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton's  in  a  hansom — not,  as  Lady 
Toiquilin  said,  that  she  had  the  least  objection  to  omnibuses, 
especially  when  they  didn't  drop  one  at  the  veiy  door,  but 
because  there  were  no  om.nibuses  very  convenient  to  the  part  of 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  85 

Cromwell  Road  that  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  lived  in.  We  inspected 
several  before  Lady  Torquilin  made  a  selection — rubber-tyred, 
yellow-wheeled,  with  a  horse  attached  that  would  hardly  stand 
still  while  we  got  in.  I  was  acutely  miserable,  he  went  so 
fast;  but  Lady  Torquilin  liked  it.  'He's  perfectly  fresh,  poor 
darling  !  '  she  said.  '  It  breaks  my  heart  to  drive  behind  a 
wretched  worn-out  creature  with  its  head  down.'  I  said,  Yes, 
I  thought  he  was  very  fresh  indeed,  and  asked  Lady  Torquilin 
if  she  noticed  how  he  waggled  his  head.  '  Dear  beastie  !  '  she 
replied,  *  he's  got  a  sore  mouth.  Suppose  your  mouth  were 
perfectly  raw,  and  you  had  a  bit  in  it,  and  a  man  tugging  at 

the  reins *     But  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer ;  I  put  my 

parasol  up  through  the  door  in  the  top.  '  Make  him  stop 
waggling  ! '  I  called  to  the  driver.  '  It's  only  a  little  'abit  of 
'is,  miss,'  the  driver  said,  and  then,  as  the  horse  dropped  his 
pace,  he  whipped  him.  Instantly  Lady  Torquilin's  parasol 
admonished  him.  '  If  you  flog  your  horse,'  she  said  emphati- 
cally, '  I  get  out.'  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  driven  in  a  hansom 
with  Lady  Torquilin  since  that  our  parasols  have  not  both  gone 
through  the  roof  to  point  statements  like  these  to  the  cabman. 
Lady  Torquilin  usually  anguished  on  the  dear  horse's  account, 
and  I  unhappy  on  my  own.  It  enlivens  the  most  monotonous 
drive,  but  it  is  a  great  strain  on  the  nerves.  I  generally  beg 
for  a  four-wheeler  instead  ;  but  Lady  Torquilin  is  contemptuous 
of  four-wheelers,  and  declares  she  would  just  as  soon  drive  in 
the  British  Museum.  She  says  I  will  get  used  to  it  if  I  will 
only  abstract  my  mind  and  talk  about  something  else ;  and  I 
am  trying,  but  the  process  is  a  very  painful  one. 

When  we  arrived  at  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton's  I  rang  the  bell. 
'  Bless  you,  child  !  '  said  Lady  Torquilin,  '  that's  not  the  way. 
They'll  take  you  for  a  nursery  governess,  or  a  piano-tnner,  or  a 


86 


AN  AMERICAN  GIHL  IN  LONDON 


bill  !  This  is  the  proper  thing  for  visitors.'  And  with  that 
Lady  Torquilin  rapped  sonorously  and  rang  a  peal — such  a  rap 
and  peal  as  I  had  never  heard  in  all  my  life  before.    In  America 


MAKE    HIM    STOP    WAGGLING, 


CAIiliED    TO    THE    DRIVER 


we  have  only  one  kind  of  ring  for  everybody — from  the  mayor 
of  the  city  to  the  man  who  sells  plaster  Cupids  and  will  take 
old  clothes  on  account.  We  approach  each  other's  door-bells, 
as  a  nation,  with  much  greater  deference ;  and  there  is  a  certain 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  Z^ 

humility  in  the  way  we  introduce  our  personalities  anywhere. 
I  felt  uncomfortable  on  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton's  doorstep,  as  if  I 
were  not,  individually,  worth  all  that  noise.  Since  then  I  have 
been  obliged  to  rap  and  ring  myself,  because  Lady  Torquilin 
likes  me  to  be  as  proper  as  I  can  ;  but  there  is  always  an  in- 
completeness about  the  rap  and  an  ineffectualness  about  the 
ring.  I  simply  haven't  the  education  to  do  it.  And  when  the 
footman  opens  the  door  I  feel  that  my  face  expresses  deprecat- 
ingly,  '  It's  only  me  !  '  '  Rap  and  ring  !  '  says  Lady  Torquilin, 
deridingly,  '  it's  a  tap  and  tinkle ! '  Lady  Torquilin  is  fond  of 
alliteration. 

Inside  quite  a  few  people  were  ascending  and  descending  a 
narrow  staircase  that  climbed  against  the  wall,  taking  up  as 
little  room  as  it  could ;  and  a  great  many  were  in  the  room  on 
the  ground-floor,  where  refreshments  were  being  dispensed. 
They  were  all  beautifully  dressed — if  I  have  learned  anything  in 
England,  it  is  not  to  judge  the  English  by  the  clothes  they  wear 
in  America — and  they  moved  about  with  great  precision, 
making,  as  a  general  thing,  that  pleasant  rustle  which  we  know 
to  mean  a  silk  foundation.  The  rustle  was  the  only  form  of 
conversation  that  appeared  to  be  general,  but  I  noticed  speak- 
ing going  on  in  several  groups  of  two  or  three.  And  I  never 
saw  better  going  up  and  down  stairs — it  was  beautifully  done, 
even  by  ladies  weighing,  1  should  think,  quite  two  hundred 
pounds  apiece,  which  you  must  reduce  to  "  stun  "  for  yourself. 
Lady  Torquilin  led  the  way  with  great  simplicity  and  directness 
into  the  dining-room,  and  got  tea  for  us  both  from  one  of  the 
three  white-capped  modestly-expressionless  maids  behind  the 
table — I  cannot  tell  you  what  a  dream  of  peace  your  servants 
are  in  this  country — and  asked  me  whether  I  would  have 
sponge-cake,  or  a  cress  sandwich,  or  what.  '  But,'  I  said, 
7 


S8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

'  where  is  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  ? — I  haven't  been  introduced.' 
'All  in  good  time,'  said  Lady  Torquilin.  'It's  just  as  well 
to  take  our  tea  when  we  can  get  it — we  won't  be  able  to  turn 
round  in  here  in  half  an  hour  ! ' — and  Lady  Torquilin  took 
another  sandwich  with  composure.  '  Try  the  plum-cake,'  she 
advised  me  in  an  aside.  '  Buszard — I  can  tell  at  a  glance  !  1 
have  to  deny  myself.' 

And  I  tried  the  plum-cake,  but  with  a  sense  of  guilty 
apprehension  lest  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  should  appear  in  the 
doorway  and  be  naturally  surprised  at  the  consumption  of  her 
refreshments  by  an  utter  stranger.  I  noticed  that  almost 
everybody  else  did  the  same  thing,  and  that  nobody  seemed  at 
all  nervous ;  but  I  occupied  as  much  of  Lady  Torquilin's  shadow 
as  I  could,  all  the  same,  and  on  the  way  up  implored  her,  saying, 
'  Have  I  any  crumbs  ? '  I  felt  that  it  would  require  more 
hardihood  than  I  possessed  to  face  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  with 
shreds  of  her  substance,  acquired  before  I  knew  her,  clinging  to 
my  person.  But  concealment  was  useless,  and  seemed  to  be 
unnecessary. 

'Have  you  had  any  tea?'  said  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  to  Lady 
Torquilin,  her  question  embracing  us  both,  as  we  passed  before 
her ;  and  Lady  Torquilin  said,  '  Yes,  thanks,'  as  nonchalantly 
as  possible. 

Lady  Torquilin  had  just  time  to  say  that  I  was  an  American. 

'  Really ! '  remarked  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton,  looking  at  me 
again.  'How  nice.  The  only  one  I  have  to-day,  I  think.' 
And  we  had  to  make  room  for  somebody  else.  But  it  was  then 
that  the  curious  sensation  of  being  attached  to  a  string  and  led 
about,  which  T  have  felt  more  or  less  in  London  ever  since, 
occurred  to  me  first — in  the  statement  that  I  was  the  only  one 
Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton  had  to-day. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  89 

Lady  Torquilin  declared,  as  she  looked  round  the  room,  that 
she  didn't  see  a  soul  she  knew  ;  so  we  made  our  way  to  a  corner 
and  sat  down,  and  began  to  talk  in  those  uninterested  spasms 
that  always  attack  people  who  come  with  each  other.  Pre- 
sently— '  There  is  that  nice  little  Mrs.  Pastelle-Jones  ! '  said 
Lady  Torquilin,  '  I  must  go  and  speak  to  her !  ' — and  I  was  left 
alone,  with  the  opportunity  of  admiring  the  china.  I  don't 
wonder  at  your  fondness  for  it  in  London  drawing-rooms.  It 
seems  to  be  the  only  thing  that  you  can  keep  clean.  So  many 
people  were  filing  in  past  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton,  however,  that 
the  china  soon  lost  its  interest  for  me.  The  people  were  chiefly 
ladies — an  impressive  number  of  old,  stout,  rosy,  white-haired 
ladies  in  black,  who  gave  me  the  idea  of  remarkable  health  at 
their  age  ;  more  middle-aged  ones,  rather  inclined  to  be  pale 
and  thin,  with  narrow  cheek-bones,  and  high-arched  noses,  and 
sweet  expressions,  and  a  great  deal  of  black  lace  and  jet,  much 
puffed  on  the  shoulders  ;  and  young  ones,  who  were,  of  course, 
the  very  first  English  young  ladies  I  had  ever  seen  in  an 
English  drawing-room.  I  suppose  you  are  accustomed  to 
them  ;  you  don't  know  what  they  were  to  me — you  couldn't 
understand  the  intense  interest  and  wonder  and  admiration 
they  excited  in  me.  1  had  never  seen  anything  human  so  tall  and 
srrong  and  fine  and  fresh -coloured  before,  with  such  clear 
limpid  eyes,  such  pretty  red  lips,  and  the  outward  showing  of 
such  excellent  appetites.  It  seemed  to  me  that  everyone  was 
an  epitome  of  her  early  years  of  bread-and-butter  and  milk 
puddings  and  going  to  bed  at  half-past  nine,  and  the  epitomes 
had  a  charming  similarity.  The  English  young  lady  stood 
before  me  in  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton's  drawing-room  as  an  extra- 
ordinary product^in  almost  all  cases  five-eight,  and  in  some 
quite  six  feet  in  height.     Her  little  mamma  was  dwarfed  besido 


90  AN  AMERICAN   GIRL  IN  LONDON 

her,  and  when  she  smiled  down  upon  the  occasional  man  who 
was  introduced  to  her,  in  her  tall,  compassionate  way,  he  looked 
quite  insignificant,  even  if  he  carried  the  square,  tuined-back 
shoulders  by  which  I  have  learned  to  tell  military  men  in  this 
country.  We  have  nothing  like  it  in  America,  on  the  same 
scale ;  although  we  have  a  great  deal  more  air  to  breathe  and 
vegetables  to  eat  than  you.  I  knew  that  1  had  always  been 
considered  '  a  big  girl,*  but  beside  these  firm-fleshed  young 
women  I  felt  myself  rather  a  poor  creature,  without  a  muscular 
advantage  to  my  name.  They  smiled  a  good  deal,  but  I  did 
not  see  them  talk  much — it  seemed  enough  for  them  to  be ; 
and  they  had  a  considering  air,  as  if  things  were  new  to  them, 
and  they  had  not  quite  made  up  their  minds.  And  as  they 
considered  they  blushed  a  good  deal,  in  a  way  that  was  simply 
sweet.  As  I  sat  musing  upon  them  I  saw  Lady  Torquilin 
advancing  toward  me,  with  one  of  the  tallest,  pinkest,  best- 
developed,  and  most  tailor-made  of  all  immediately  behind  her, 
following,  with  her  chin  outstretched  a  little,  and  her  eyes 
downcast,  and  a  pretty  expression  of  doing  what  she  was  told. 

'  My  dear,'  said  Lady  Torquilin,  '  this  is  Miss  Gladys  For- 
tescue.  Gladys — Miss  Wick,  my  young  lady  friend  from 
Chicago.  Miss  Fortescue  has  a  brother  in  America,  so  you  will 
have  something  to  chat  about.* 

'  Howdj-do  ? '  said  Miss  Fortescue.  She  said  it  very  quickly, 
with  a  sweet  smile,  and  an  interesting  little  mechanical  move- 
ment of  the  head,  blushing  at  the  same  time ;  and  we  shook 
hands.  That  is,  I  think  one  of  us  did,  though  I  can't  say 
positively  which  one  it  was.  As  I  remember  the  process,  there 
were  two  shakes ;  but  they  were  not  shakes  that  ran  into  each 
other,  and  one  of  them — I  think  it  was  mine — failed  to  '  come 
off/  as  you  say  in  tennis.     Mine  was  the  shake   that  begins 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  QI 

nowhere  in  particular,  and  ends  without  your  knowing  it  — 
just  the  ordinary  American  shake  arranged  on  the  muscular 
system  in  common  use  with  us.  Miss  Fortescue's  was  a  rapid, 
convulsive  movement,  that  sprang  from  her  shoulder  and  cul- 
minated with  a  certain  violence.  There  was  a  little  push  in  it, 
too,  and^  it  exploded,  as  it  were,  high  in  air.  At  the  same  time 
I  noticed  the  spectacles  of  a  small  man  who  stood  near  very 
much  in  peril  from  Miss  Fortescue's  elbow.  Then  I  remembered 
and  understood  the  sense  of  dislocation  I  had  experienced  after 
shaking  hands  with  Mrs.  Fry  Hamilton,  and  which  I  had 
attributed,  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  to  being  held  up, 
so  to  speak,  as  an  American. 

*  Do  you  know  my  brother  ? '  said  Miss  Fortescue. 

'  I  am  afraid  not,'  I  replied.     '  Where  does  he  live  ? ' 

'  In  the  United  States,'  said  Miss  Fortescue.  ^  He  went  out 
there  six  months  ago  with  a  friend.  Perhaps  you  know  his 
friend — Mr.  Colfax.' 

I  said  I  knew  two  or  three  Mr.  Oolfaxes,  but  none  of  them 
were  English — had  not  been,  at  least,  for  some  time  back ;  and 
did  Miss  Fortescue  know  what  particular  part  of  the  Union  her 
brother  and  his  friend  had  gone  to  ?  ^  You  know,'  I  said,  '  we 
have  an  area  of  three  million  square  miles.'  I  daresay  I  men- 
tioned our  area  with  a  certain  pardonable  pride.  It's  a  thing 
we  generally  make  a  point  of  in  America. 

I  shouldn't  have  thought  there  was  anything  particularly 
humorous  in  an  area,  but  Miss  Fortescue  laughed  prettily.  '  I 
remember  learning  that  from  my  governess,'  she  said.  'My 
brother  is  out  in  the  West — either  in  the  town  of  Minneapolis 
and  the  State  of  Minnesota,  or  the  town  of  Minnesota  and  the 
State  of  Minneapolis.  I  never  know,  without  looking  out  his 
address,  which  comes  first.     But  I  daresay  there  are  a  good 


92 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


"  YOU  HAVE  THE  TOE -BEGANING  — THAT  MUST  BE  NICE 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  93 

many    people    in    the    United    States — you    might   easily  miss 
him.' 

'  We  have  sixty  millions,  Miss  Fortescue,'  I  said  ;  and  Miss 
Fortescue  returned  that  in  that  case  she  didn't  see  how  we 
could  be  expected  to  know  ari^/body ;  and  after  that  the  conver- 
sation flagged  for  a  few  seconds,  during  which  we  both  looked 
at  the  other  people. 

'  I  have  never  been  to  America,'  Miss  Fortescue  said.  '  I 
should  like  to  go.     Is  it  very  cold  ? ' 

I  did  not  mention  the  area  again.     '  In  some  places,'  I  said. 

*  I  should  not  like  that.  But  then,  you  have  the  toe-began- 
ing — that  must  be  nice." 

I  assented,  though  I  did  not  in  the  least  know,  until  Miss 
Fortescue  spoke  of  skating,  what  she  meant.  Miss  Fortescue 
thought  the  skating  must  be  nice,  too,  and  then,  she  supposed, 
though  it  was  cold,  we  always  went  out  prepared  for  it.  And 
the  conversation  flagged  again.  Fortunately,  a  gentleman  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room,  where  the  piano  was,  began  at  that 
moment  to  sing  something  very  pleading  and  lamentable  and 
uncomfortable,  with  a  burden  of  '  I  love  thee  so,'  which  gene- 
rally rhymed  with  'woe' — an  address  to  somebody  he  called 
'  Dear-r-r  Hear-r-r-t ! '  as  high  as  he  could  reach,  turning  up 
his  eyes  a  good  deal,  as  if  he  were  in  pain.  And  for  the  time 
it  was  not  necessary  to  talk.  When  he  had  finished  Miss  For- 
tescue asked  me  if  it  was  not  delightful,  and  I  said  it  was — 
did  she  know  the  gentleman's  name?  Miss  Fortescue  said  she 
did  not,  but  perhaps  Lady  Torquilin  would.  And  then,  just  as 
Lady  Torquilin  came  up,  '  How  do  you  like  England  ? '  asked 

Miss  Fortescue. 

.••••■ 

'  Well,'  asked  Lady  Torquilin,  as  we  drove  home  in  anothei 


94 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


hansom,  '  what  did   you  and  Gladys  Fortescue  find  to  say  to 
each  other  ? ' 

I  said,  quite  truly,  that  I  did  not  remember  at  the  moment, 
but  I  admired  Miss  Fortescue — also  with  great  sincerity — so 


*  SOMEBODY    HE    CALLED    "  DEAR-R-R    Hh:An-n  li  T  !  ""  ' 

enthusiastically,  that  I  daresay  Lady  Torquilin  thought  we  had 
got  on  splendidly  together. 

And  what  I  wonder  is,  if  Miss  Fortescue  had  been  asked 
about  our  conversation,  what  she  would  have  said. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  95 


IX 

*  T70U  are  sure  you  know  where  you're  going  ? '  said  Lady 
J-  Torquilin,  referring  to  the  'Army  and  Navy.'  '  Victoria 
omnibus,  remember,  at  Sloane-square ;  a  penny  fare,  and  not 
more,  mind.  You  must  learn  to  look  after  your  pennies. 
Now,  what  are  you  to  do  for  me  at  the  Stores  ? ' 

'  A  packet  of  light  Silurian  ;  your  camphor  and  aconite 
pilules;  to   ask  how  long  they  intend  to   be  over  the  valise 

they're  fixing  for  you ' 

'  Portmanteau  they're  re-covering.     Yes,  go  on  ! ' 
'  And  what  their  charge  is  for  cleaning  red  curtains.' 
^ And  to  complain  about   the   candles,'  added  Lady  Tor- 
quilin.' 

'  And  to  complain  about  the  candles.' 

*  Yes.  Don't  forget  about  the  candles,  dear.  See  what 
they'll  do.  And  I'm  very  sorry  I  can't  go  with  you  to  Madame 
Tussaud's,  but  you  know  I've  been  trotting  about  the  whole 
morning,  and  all  those  wax  people,  with  their  idiotic  expres- 
sions, this  afternoon  would  simply  finish  me  off!  I'll  just  lie 
down  a  bit,  and  go  with  you  another  day  ;  I  couldn't  stand  up 
much  longer  to  talk  to  the  Queen  herself !  You  pop  into  the 
"  Underground,"  you  know,  at  St.  James's  Park,  and  out  at 
Baker  Street.  Now.  where  do  you  pop  in  ? — and  out  ?  That's 
quite  right.  Good-bye,  child.  I  rang  for  the  lift  to  come  up  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago ;  it's  probably  there  now,  and  we  mustn't 


96  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

keep  it  waiting.  Off  you  go!'  But  the  elevator-door  was 
locked,  and  our  descent  had  begun,  when  Lady  Torquilin 
harried  along  the  passage,  arrested,  and  kept  it  waiting  on  her 
own  account.  '  It's  only  to  say,  dear,'  she  called  through  the 
grating,  '  that  you  are  on  no  consideration  whatever  to  get  in 
or  out  of  an  Underground  train  while  it  is  moving.  On  no  con- 
sideration what ; '  but  the  grating  slowly  disappeared,  and 

the  rest  of  Lady  Torquilin's  admonition  came  down  on  the  top 
of  the  elevator. 

I  had  done  every  one  of  the  commissions.  I  had  been 
magisterially  raised  and  lowered  from  one  floor  to  another,  to 
find  that  everything  1  wanted  was  situated  up  and  down  so 
many  staircases  '  and  turn  to  your  right,  madam,'  that  I  con- 
cluded they  kept  an  elevator  at  the  Stores  for  pleasure.  I  had 
had  an  agreeable  interview  with  a  very  blonde  young  druggist 
upon  the  pilules  in  the  regions  above,  and  had  made  it  all  right 
with  a  man  in  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  an  apron  about  the 
candles  in  the  regions  below.  I  had  seen  a  thing  I  had  never 
seen  in  my  life  before,  a  very  curious  thing,  that  interested  me 
enormousl}' — a  husband  and  father  buying  his  wife's  and 
daughters'  dry-goods — probably  Lady  Torquilin  would  tell  me 
to  say  '  dress  materials.'  In  America  our  husbands  and  fathers 
are  too  much  occupied  to  make  purchases  for  their  families,  for 
which  it  struck  me  that  we  had  never  been  thankful  enough 
'  I  w^ill  not  have  you  in  stripes !  *  I  heard  him  say,  as  1 
passed,  full  of  commiseration  for  her.  '  What  arrogance ! '  J 
thought.  '  In  America  they  are  glad  to  have  us  in  anything.' 
And  I  rejoiced  that  it  was  so.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  had 
done  all  Lady  Torquilin's  commissions,  and  was  making  my  last 
trip  to  the  ground-floor  with  the  old  soldier  in  the  elevator, 
wlien  a  gentleman  got  in  at  one  of  the  stopping-places,  and  sat 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


97 


down  opposite  me.  He  had  that  look  of  deliberate  indifference 
that  1  have  noticed  so  many  English  gentlemen  carry  about 
with  them — as  if,  although  they  are  bodily  present,  their  interest 
in   life  had    been  carefully   put  away   at   home — and    he  con- 


'"I  WILL  NOT  HAVE  YOU  IN  STRIPES,"  I  HEARD  HIM  SAY  ' 

centrated  his  attention  upon  the  point  of  his  umbrella,  just  as 
he  used  to  do  upon  the  salt-cellars  crossing  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
And  he  looked  up  almost  with  astonishment  when  I  said,  '  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Matferton  ? '  rather  as  if  he  did  not  quite  expect 


98  A.V  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

to  be  spoken  to  in  an  elevator  by  a  young  lady.  Miss 
Wick ! '  he  said,  and  we  shook  hands  as  the  old  soldier  let  us 
out.  '  How  very  odd  !  I  was  on  the  point  of  looking  you  up 
at  Lady  Torquilin's.  You  see,  I've  found  you  out  at  last — no 
thanks  to  you — after  looking  all  over  the  place.' 

There  was  a  very  definite  reproach  in  this,  so  I  told  Mr. 
Mafferton  as  we  went  down  the  steps  that  I  was  extremely  sorry 
he  had  taken  any  trouble  on  my  account ;  that  I  had  fully  in- 
tended to  write  to  him  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  but  he  had 
no  idea  how  much  time  it  took  up  getting  settled  in  a  flat 
where  the  elevator  ran  only  at  stated  intervals.  '  But,'  I  said, 
with  some  curiosity,  *  how  did  you  find  me  out,  Mr.  Mafferton  ?  * 
For  if  there  is  one  interesting  thing,  it  is  to  discover  how 
an  unexpected  piece  of  information  about  yourself  has  been 
come  by. 

*  Lady  Torquilin  dropped  me  a  line,'  replied  Mr.  Mafferton ; 
'  that  is,  she  mentioned  it  in — in  a  note  yesterday.  Lady  Tor- 
quilin,' Mr.  Mafferton  went  on,  *  is  a  very  old  friend  of  mine — 
and  an  awfully  good  sort,  as  I  daresay  you  are  beginning  to 
find  out.* 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  pavement,  and  were  stand- 
ing in  everybody's  way,  with  the  painful  indetermination  that 
attacks  people  who  are  not  quite  sure  whether  they  ought  to 
separate  or  not.  *  'Ansom  cab,  sir  ?  '  asked  one  of  the  porters. 
*  No ! '  said  Mr.  Mafferton.  '  I  was  on  the  very  point,'  he 
went  on  to  me,  dodging  a  boy  with  a  bandbox,  *  of  going  to  offer 
my  services  as  cicerone  this  afternoon,  if  you  and  Lady  Torquilin 
would  be  good  enough  to  accept  them.* 

*  'Ansom  cab,  sir  ? '  asked  another  porter,  as  Mr.  Mafferton, 
getting  out  of  the  way  of  a  resplendent  footman,  upset  a  small 
child    with    w    topheavy    bonnet,    belonging    to    the    lady  who 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


99 


belonged  to  the  footman.  '  iVo  ! '  said  Mr.  MafFerton,  in  quite 
a  temper.  '  Shall  we  get  out  of  this  ?  '  he  asked  me,  appeal- 
ingly ;  and  we 
walked  on  in  the 
direction  of  the 
Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment. 

'  There's  no- 
thing on  in  par- 
ticular, that  I  know 
of,'  he  continued; 
'  bat  there  are 
always  the  stock 
shows,  and  Lady 
Torquilin  is  up  to 
any  amount  of 
sight-seeing,  I 
know.' 

'  She  isn't  to- 
day, Mr.  Mafferton.  She's  lying  down.  I  did  my  best  to 
persuade  her  to  come  out  with  me,  and  she  wouldn't.  But  I'm 
going  sight-seeing  this  very  minute,  and  if  you  would  like  to 
come  too,  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  very  glad.' 

Mr.  Mafferton  looked  a  little  uncomfortable.  '  Where  were 
you  thinking  of  going  ?  '  he  asked. 

'  To  Madame  Tussaud's,'  I  said.  '  You  go  by  the  Under- 
ground Railway  from  here.  Get  in  at  St.  James's  Park  Station, 
and  out  at  Baker  Street  Station — about  twenty -five  minutes  in 
the  cars.  And  you  are  not,'  I  said,  remembering  what  I  had 
been  told,  '  under  any  consideration  whatever,  to  get  in  or  out 
of  the  train  while  it  is  moving.' 


'  UPSET   A   CHILD    WITH    A    TOPHEAVY    BONNET  ' 


loo  AN  AMERICAN  GJRL   IN  LONDON 

Mr.  MafFerton  laughed.  '  Lady  Torquilin  has  been  coaching 
you,'  he  said ;  but  he  still  looked  uncomfortable,  and  thinking 
he  felt,  perhaps,  like  an  intruder  upon  my  plans,  and  wishing  to 
put  him  at  his  ease,  I  said  :  '  It  would  really  he  very  kind  of 
you  to  come,  Mr.  Mafferton,  for  even  at  school  I  never  could 
remember  English  history,  and  now  I've  probably  got  your 
dynasties  worse  mixed  up  than  ever.  It  would  be  a  greut 
advantage  to  go  with  somebody  who  knows  all  the  dates,  and 
which  kings  usurped  their  thrones,  and  who  they  properly 
belonged  to.' 

Mr.  Mafferton  laughed  again.  '  I  hope  you  don't  expect  all 
that  of  me,'  he  said.  '  But  if  you  are  quite  sure  we  couldn't 
rout  Lady  Torquilin  out,  I  will  take  you  to  Madame  Tussaud's 
with  the  greatest  pleasure,  Miss  Wick.' 

'  I'm  quite  sure,'  I  told  Mr.  Mafferton,  cheerfully.  '  She 
said  all  those  wax  people,  with  their  idiotic  expressions,  this 
afternoon  would  simply  finish  her  up!' — and  Mr.  Mafferton  said 
Lady  Torquilin  put  things  very  quaintly,  didn't  she  ?  And  we 
went  together  into  one  of  those  great  echoing  caverns  in  the 
sides  of  the  streets  that  led  down  flights  of  dirty  steps,  past  the 
man  who  punches  the  tickets,  and  widen  out  into  that  border  of 
desolation  with  a  fierce  star  burning  and  brightening  in  the 
blackness  of  the  farther  end,  which  is  a  platform  of  the  Under- 
ground Railway. 

'  This,'  said  I  to  Mr.  Mafferton  as  we  walked  up  and  down 
waiting  for  our  train,  '  is  one  of  the  things  I  particularly  wanted 
to  see.' 

'The  penny  weighing-machine?'  asked  Mr.  Mafferton,  for  I 
had  stopped  to  look  at  that. 

'  The  whole  thing,'  said  I — '  the  Underground  system.  But 
this  is  interesting  in  itself,'  I  added,  putting  a  penny  in,  and 


'■  "  PliEASE    HOLD    MY    PARASOL,    MK.    MAFrERTON,    THAT    I    MAiC    GET    THE    EXACT 
TRUTH   FOB   MY   PENNY  "  ' 


I02 


''••  'AN^'AWERIC^NGrl^L  IN  LONDON 


stepping  on  tlie  machine.  '  Please  hold  my  parasol,  Mr. 
Mafferton,  so  that  I  may  get  the  exact  truth  for  my  penny.' 
Mr.  Mafferton  took  the  parasol  with  a  slightly  clouded 
expression,  which  deepened  when  one  of  two  gentlemen  who 
had  just  come  on  the  platform  bowed  to  him.  *  I  think,  if  you 
don't  mind.  Miss  Wick,  we  had  better  go  farther  along  the 
platform — it  will  be  easier  to  get  the  carriage,'  he  said,  in  a 
manner  which  quite  dashed  my  amiable  intention  of  telling  him 
how  even  the  truth  was  cheaper  in  this  country  than  in  America, 
for  our  weighing-machines  wouldn't  work  for  less  than  a 
nickel,  which  was  twice  and  a-half  as  much  as  a  penny. 
Just  then,  however,  the  train  came  whizzing  in,  we  bundled 
ourselves  into  a  compartment,  the  door  banged  after  us  with 
frightful  explosiveness — the  Underground  bang  is  a  thing  which 
I  should  think  the  omnibus  companies  had  great  cause  to  be 
thankful  for — and  we  went  with  a  scream  and  a  rush  into  the 
black  unknown.  It  seemed  to  me  in  the  first  few  minutes  that 
life  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  it  had  lapsed,  and  that  a  sort 
of  semi-conscious  existence  was  filling  up  the  gap  between 
what  had  been  before  and  what  would  be  again.  I  can't  say  I 
found  this  phase  of  being  agreeable.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
my  eyes  and  my  ears  and  my  lungs  might  just  as  well  have 
been  left  at  home.  The  only  organ  that  found  any  occupation 
was  my  nose — all  sense  seemed  concentrated  in  that  sharp- 
edged,  objectionable  smell.  *  What  do  you  think  of  the  Under- 
ground ? '  said  Mr.  Mafferton,  leaning  across,  above  the  rattle. 
I  told  him  I  hadn't  had  time  to  analyse  my  impressions,  in  a 
series  of  shrieks,  and  subsided  to  watch  for  the  greyness  of  the 
next  station.  After  that  had  passed,  and  I  was  convinced  that 
there  were  places  where  you  could  escape  to  the  light  and  air 
of  the  outside  world  again,  I  asked  Mr.  Mafferton  a  number  of 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


103 


questions  about  the  railway,  and  in  answering  them  he  said  the 
first  irritating  thing  I  heard  in  England.  '  I  hope,'  he  remarked, 
'  that  your  interest  in  the  Underground  won't  take  you  all  the 
way  round  the  Circle  to  see  what  it's  like.' 


'"what  do  you  think  of  the  underground?"' 

'  Why  do  you  hope  that,  Mr.  Mafferton  ? '  I  said.  ^  Is  it 
dangerous  ? ' 

'  Not  in  the  least,'  he  returned,  a  little  confusedly.  '  Only 
— most  Americans  like  to  "  make  the  entire  circuit,"  I  believe.' 

'  I've  no  doubt  they  want  to  see  how  bad  it  can  be,'  I  said. 
'  We  are  a  very  fair  nation,  Mr.  Mafferton.  But  though  I  can't 
8 


I04  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

anderstand  your  hope  in  the  matter,  I  don't  think  it  likely  I 
shall  travel  by  Underground  any  more  than  I  can  help.* 
Because,  for  the  moment,  I  felt  an  annoyance.  Why  should 
Mr.  Mafferton  ^  hope 'about  my  conduct? — Mr.  Mafferton  was 
not  my  maiden  aunt !  But  he  very  politely  asked  me  how  I 
thought  it  compared  with  the  Elevated  in  New  York,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  tell  him  that  I  really  didn't  think  it  compared  at  all. 
The  Elevated  was  ugly  to  look  at,  and  some  people  found  it 
giddy  to  ride  on,  but  it  took  you  through  the  best  quality  of  air 
and  sunlight  the  entire  distance ;  and  if  anything  happened,  at 
all  events  you  could  see  what  it  was.  Mr.  Mafferton  replied  that 
he  thought  he  preferred  the  darkness  to  looking  through  other 
people's  windows  ;  and  this  preference  of  Mr.  Mafferton's  struck 
me  later  as  being  interestingly  English.  And  after  that  we  both 
lapsed  into  meditation,  and  I  thought  about  old  London,  with 
its  Abbey,  and  its  Tower,  and  its  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  its 
Bluecoat  boys,  and  its  monuments,  and  its  ten  thousand  hansom 
cabs,  lying  just  over  my  head  ;  and  an  odd,  pleasurable  sensation 
of  undermining  the  centuries  and  playing  a  trick  with  history 
almost  superseded  the  Underground  smell.  The  more  I  thought 
about  it,  and  about  what  Mr.  Mafferton  had  said,  the  more  I 
liked  that  feeling  of  taking  an  enormous  liberty  with  London, 
and  by  the  time  we  reached  Baker  Street  Station  I  was  able  to 
say  to  Mr.  Mafferton,  with  a  clear  conscience,  in  spite  of  my 
smuts  and  lialf-toi'pid  state  of  mind,  that  on  consideration  I 
thought  T  would  like  to  compass  London  by  the  Underground — 
bo  '  make  the  entire  circuit.' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


105 


>^x^^N 


1 


T  struck  me,  from  the 
outside,  as  oddly  im- 
posing— Madame  Tussaud,'s. 
Partly,  I  suppose,  because 
it  is  always  more  or  less 
treated  jocosely,  partly 
because  of  the  homely  little 
familiar  name,  and  partly 
because  a  person's  expecta- 
tions of  a  waxwork  show 
are  naturally  not  very  lofty. 
I  was  looking  out  for 
anything  but  a  swelling 
dome  and  a  flag,  and  the 
high  brick  walls  of  an  In- 
stitution. There  seemed  a 
grotesqueness  of  dignity 
about  it,  which  was  empha- 
sised by  the  solemn  man  at  the  turnstile  who  took  the  shillings 
and  let  us  through,  and  by  the  spaciousness  inside — empha- 
sised so  much  that  it  disappeared,  so  to  speak,  and  I  found 
myself  taking  the  place  quite  seriously — the  gentleman  in 
tin  on  the  charger  in  the  main  hall  below,  and  the  wide 
marble  stairs,  and  the   urns  in  the  corners,  and  the  oil  paint- 


io6  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

ings  on  the  landings,  and  everything.  I  began  asking  Mr. 
Mafferton  questions  immediately,  quite  in  the  subdued  voice 
people  use  under  impressive  circumstances ;  but  he  wasn't  certain 
who  the  architect  was,  and  couldn't  say  where  the  marble 
came  from,  and  really  didn't  know  how  many  years  the  wax- 
works had  been  in  existence,  and  hadn't  the  least  idea  what  the 
gross  receipts  were  per  annum — did  not,  in  fact,  seem  to  think 
he  ought  to  be  expected  to  be  acquainted  with  these  matters. 
The  only  thing  he  could  tell  me  definitely  was  that  Madame 
Tussaud  was  dead — and  I  knew  that  myself.  '  Upon  my  word, 
you  know,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton,  '  I  haven't  been  here  since  I 
was  put  into  knickers ! '  I  was  surprised  at  this  remark  when 
1  heard  it,  for  Mr.  Mafferton  was  usually  elegant  to  a  degree  in 
his  choice  of  terms;  but  I  should  not  be  now.  I  have  found 
nothing  plainer  in  England  than  the  language.  Its  simplicity 
and  directness  are  a  little  startling  at  first,  perhaps,  to  the 
foreign  ear ;  but  this  soon  wears  off  as  you  become  accustomed 
to  it,  and  I  dare  say  the  foreigner  begins  to  talk  the  same  way — 
in  which  case  my  speech  will  probably  be  a  matter  of  grave 
consideration  to  me  when  I  get  back  to  Chicago.  In  America 
we  usually  put  things  in  a  manner  somewhat  more  involved. 
Yes,  I  know  you  are  thinking  of  the  old  story  about  Americans 
draping  the  legs  of  their  pianos ;  but  if  I  were  you  I  would 
discount  that  story.  For  my  own  part,  I  never  in  my  life  saw 
it  done. 

The  moment  we  were  inside  the  main  hall,  where  the 
orchestra  was  playing,  before  I  had  time  to  say  more  than  '  How 
very  interesting,  Mr.  Mafferton  !  Who  is  that  ?  and  why  is  lie 
famous?'  Mr.  Mafferton  bought  one  of  the  red  and  gilt  and 
green  catalogues  from  the  young  woman  at  the  door,  and  put  it 
into  my  hand  almost  impulsively. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  107 

'I  fancy  they're  very  complete — and  reliable,  Miss  Wick,' 
lie  said.  '  You — you  really  mustn't  depend  upon  me.  It's  such 
an  unconscionable  time  since  I  left  school.' 

I  told  Mr.  Mafferton  I  was  sure  that  was  only  his  modest 
way  of  putting  it,  and  that  I  knew  he  had  reams  of  English 
history  in  his  head  if  he  would  only  just  think  of  it ;  and  he 
replied,  '  No,  really,  upon  my  word,  I  have  not ! '  But  by 
that  time  I  realised  that  I  was  in  the  immediate  society  of  all  the 
remarkable  old  kings  and  queens  of  England ;  and  the  emotions 
they  inspired,  standing  round  in  that  promiscuous  touchable 
way,  with  their  crowns  on,  occupied  me  so  fully,  that  for  at  least 
ten  minutes  I  found  it  quite  interesting  enough  to  look  at  them 
in  silence.  So  I  sat  down  on  one  of  the  seats  in  the  middle  of 
the  hall,  where  people  were  listening  to  the  orchestra's  selections 
from  '  The  Gondoliers,'  and  gave  myself  up  to  the  curious  captiva- 
tion  of  the  impression.  '  It's  not  bad,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton, 
reflectively,  a  little  way  off.  '  No,'  I  said,  '  it's  beautiful ! '  But 
I  think  he  meant  the  selections,  and  I  meant  the  kings  and 
queens,  to  whom  he  was  not  paying  the  slightest  attention. 
But  I  did  not  find  fault  with  him  for  that — he  had  been,  in  a 
manner,  brought  up  amongst  these  things ;  he  lived  in  a  country 
that  always  had  a  king  or  queen  of  some  sort  to  rule  over  it ;  he 
was  used  to  crowns  and  sceptres.  He  could  not  possibly  have 
the  same  feelings  as  a  person  born  in  Chicago,  and  reared  upon 
Republican  principles.  But  to  me  those  quaint  groups  of 
royalties  in  the  robes  and  jewels  of  other  times,  and  arrayed  just 
as  much  in  their  characters  as  in  their  clothes — the  characters 
everybody  knows  them  by — were  a  source  of  pure  and,  while  I 
sat  there,  increasing  delight.  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  I 
like  the  kings  and  queens  at  Madame  Tussaud's  better  than  any- 
thing else  I've  seen  in  England,  at  the  risk  of  being  considered 


io8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

a  person  of  low  intelligence.  I  know  that  Mr.  James  Russell 
Lowell — whom  poppa  always  used  to  say  he  was  proud  to  claim 
as  a  fellow-countryman,  until  he  went  Mugwump  when  Cleveland 
was  elected — said  of  them  that  they  were  '  much  like  any  other 
English  party ' ;  but  I  should  think  from  that  that  Mr.  Lowell 
was  perhaps  a  little  prejudiced  against  waxworks,  and  intolerant 
of  the  form  of  art  which  they  represent ;  or,  possibly,  when  he 
said  it  he  had  just  come  to  London,  and  had  not  attended  many 
English  parties.  For  it  seems  to  me  that  the  peculiar  charm 
and  interest  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  at  Madame  Tussaud's 
is  the  ingenuous  earnestness  with  which  they  show  you  their 
temperaments  and  tastes  and  dispositions,  which  I  have  not 
found  especially  characteristic  of  other  English  ladies  and  gentle- 
men. As  Lady  Torquilin  says,  however,  '  that's  as  it  may  be.' 
All  I  know  is,  that  whatever  Mr.  Lowell,  from  his  lofty  Harvard 
standard  of  culture,  may  find  to  say  in  deprecation  of  all  that  is 
left  of  your  early  sovereigns,  I,  from  my  humble  Chicago  point 
of  view,  was  immensely  pleased  with  them.  I  could  not  get 
over  the  feeling — I  have  not  got  over  it  yet — that  they  were,  or 
at  any  rate  had  once  been,  veritable  kings  and  queens.  I  had 
a  sentiment  of  respect;  I  could  not  think  of  them,  as  I  told  Mr. 
MafTerton,  '  as  wax  ' ;  and  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  the  crowns 
were  brass  and  the  jewels  glass.  Even  now  I  find  that  an 
unpleasant  reflection ;  and  I  would  not  go  back  to  Madame 
Tussaud's  on  any  account,  for  fear  the  brassinesa  of  the  crowns 
and  the  glassiness  of  the  jewels  might  obtrude  themselves  the 
second  time,  and  spoil  the  illusion.  English  history,  with  its 
moated  castles,  and  knights  in  armour,  and  tyrant  kings  and 
virtuous  queens,  had  always  seemed  more  or  less  of  a  fairy  tale  to 
me — it  is  difficult  to  believe  in  mediasval  romance  in  America — 
and  there,  about  me,  was  the  fairy  tale  realised :  all  the  curious 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  109 

old  people  who  died  of  a  '  surfeit  of  lampreys/  or  of  a  bad 
temper,  or  of  decapitation,  or  in  other  ways  which  would  be 
considered  eccentric  now,  in  all  their  dear  old  folds  and  fashions, 
red  and  blue  and  gold  and  ermine,  with  their  crowns  on ! 
There  was  a  sociability  among  them,  too,  that  I  thought  inte- 
resting, and  that  struck  me  as  a  thing  I  shouldn't  have  expected, 
some  of  their  characters  being  so  very  good,  and  some  so  very 
bad ;  but  I  suppose,  being  all  kings  and  queens,  any  other 
distinction  would  be  considered  invidious.  I  looked  up  while  I 
was  thinking  about  them,  and  caught  Mr.  Mafferton  yawning, 

'  Are  you  impressed  ? '  he  said,  disguising  it  with  a  smile. 

'  Very  much,'  I  answered  him.     '  In  a  way.     Aren't  you  ?  ' 

'I  think  they're  imbecile,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton.  *  Imbecile 
old  Things  !  I  have  been  wondering  what  they  could  possibly 
suggest  to  you.' 

Mr.  Mafferton  certainly  spoke  in  that  way.  I  remember  it 
distinctly.  Because  I  depended  upon  it  in  taking,  as  we  went 
round,  a  certain  freedom  of  criticism — depended  upon  it,  I  had 
reason  to  believe  afterwards,  unwarrantably. 

*  Let  us  look  at  them  individually,'  I  said,  rising.  *  Collec- 
tively, I  find  them  lovable.* 

'  Well,  now,  I  envy  them ! '  replied  Mr.  Mafferton,  with 
great  coolness.  This  was  surprisingly  frivolous  in  Mr. 
Mafferton,  who  was  usually  quite  what  would  be  called  a  serious 
person,  and  just  for  a  minute  I  did  not  quite  know  what  to  say. 
Then  I  laughed  a  little  frivolously  too.  '  I  suppose  you  intend 
that  for  a  compliment,  Mr.  Mafferton,'  I  said.  Privately,  I 
thought  it  very  clumsy.  '  This  is  Number  One,  I  think ' — and 
we  stopped  before  William  the  Conqueror  asking  Matilda  of 
Flanders  to  sit  down. 

*  I  don't  know  that  I  did,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton — which  made 


no  AN  AMERICAN  CTRL  IN  LONDON 

the  situation  awkward  for  me  ;  for  if  there  is  an  uncomfortable 
thing,  it  is  to  appropriate  a  compliment  which  was  not  intended. 
An  Englishman  is  a  being  absolutely  devoid  of  tact. 

*  So  this  is  William  the  Conqueror  ? '  I  said,  by  way  of 
changing  the  subject. 

'  It  may  be  a  little  like  his  clothes,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton, 
indifferently. 

*  Oh  !  don't  say  that,  Mr.  Mafferton.  I'm  sure  he  looks  every 
inch  a  William  the  Conqueror !  See  how  polite  he  is  to  his  wife, 
too — I  suppose  that's  because  he's  French  ? ' 

Mr.  Mafferton  didn't  say  anything,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  perhaps  I  had  not  expressed  myself  well. 

'  Do  you  notice,'  I  went  on,  ^  how  he  wears  his  crown — all 
tipped  to  one  side  ?  He  reminds  me  just  a  little,  Mr.  Mafferton, 
with  that  type  of  face — enterprising,  you  know — and  hair  tliat 
length,  only  it  ought  to  be  dark,  and  if  the  crown  were  only  a 
wide-brimmed,  soft  felt  hat — he  reminds  me  very  much  of  those 
Californian  ranchers  and  miners  Bret  Harte  and  Joaquin  Miller 
write  about.' 

*  Do  you  mean  cowboys  ? '  asked  Mr.  Mafferton,  in  a  way 
that  told  me  he  wasn't  going  to  agree  with  me. 

'  Yes,  that  kind  of  person.  I  think  William  the  Conqueror 
would  make  a  beautiful  cowboy — a  regular  "Terror  of  the 
Canyon."  ' 

'  Can't  say  I  see  it,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton,  fixing  his  eye  upon 
the  bass  'cello  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

'  It  isn't  in  that  direction,'  I  said,  and  Mr.  Mafferton  became 
exceedingly  red.  Then  ic  occurred  to  me  that  possibly  over 
here  that  might  be  considered  impertinent,  so  I  did  my  best  to 
make  up  for  it.  '  A  very  nice  face,  isn't  it  ? '  I  went  on. 
*  What  is  he  particularly  noted  for,  Mr.  Mafferton,  besides  the 


HO    THIS    IS    WILLIAM    THE    CONQUEROR 


!!2  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Curfew,  and  the  Doomsday  Book,  and  introducing  old  families 
into  England  ?  ' 

Mr.  Mafferton  bit  his  moustache.  I  had  never  seen  any- 
body bite  his  moustache  before,  though  I  had  always  understood 
from  novels  that  it  was  done  in  England.  Whether  American 
gentlemen  have  better  tempers,  or  whether  they  are  afraid  of 
injuring  it,  or  why  the  habit  is  not  a  common  one  with  us,  I  am 
unable  to  say. 

'  Really,  Miss  Wick,'  Mr.  Mafferton  responded,  with  six 
degrees  of  frost,  '  I — is  there  nothing  about  it  in  the  cata- 
logue ?  He  established  the  only  date  which  would  ever  stick 
in  my  memory — 1066.  But  you  mustn't  think  he  brought  all 
the  old  families  in  England  over  with  him.  Miss  Wick — it  is 
incorrect.' 

'  I  daresay,'  I  said ;  '  people  get  such  curious  ideas  about 
Kngland  in  America,  Mr.  Matferton.'  But  that  did  not  seem  to 
please  Mr.  Mafferton  either.  '  I  think  they  ought  to  know,'  he 
said,  so  seriously  that  I  did  not  like  to  retaliate  with  any 
English  misconceptions  of  American  matters.  And  from  what 
J  know  of  Mr.  Mafferton  now,  I  do  not  think  he  would  have  seen 
the  slightest  parallel. 

'  How  this  brings  it  all  back,'  I  said,  as  we  looked  at 
William  the  Second,  surnamed  Rufus,  in  blue  and  yellow,  with 
a  plain  front— 'the  marks  in  history  at  school,  and  the  dates  let 
in  at  the  sides  of  the  pages !  "  His  dead  body,  with  an 
arrow  sticking  in  it,  was  found  by  Purkiss,  a  charcoal-burner, 
and  carried  in  a  cart  to  Winchester,  where  it  was  buried  in  the 
Cathedral."  I  remember  I  used  to  torment  myself  by  wondering 
whether  they  pulled  the  arrow  out,  because  in  my  history  it 
didn't  say  they  did.' 

'It's  a  fact,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton  ;   '  one  always  does  think  of 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  113 

the  old  chap  with  the  arrow  sticking  in  him.  Burne- Jones  or 
one  of  those  fellows  ought  to  paint  it — the  forest,  you  know, 
twilight,  and  the  charcoal-burner  in  a  state  of  funk.  Tremen- 
dously effective —though,  I  daresay,  it's  been  done  scores  of 
times.' 

*  And  sold  to  be  lithographed  in  advertisements  ! '  I  added. 

*Ah,  Miss  Wick,  that  is  the  utilitarian  American  way  of 
looking  at  things !  '  Mr.  Mafferton  remarked,  jocularly ;  and  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  been  expected  to  refrain  from  telling 
him  that  I  had  in  mind  a  certain  soap  not  manufactured  in 
America. 

When  we  got  as  far  as  Henry  the  Second,  Curtmantle, 
whom  Madame  Tussaud  describes  as  a  *  wise  and  good  king,' 
and  who  certainly  has  an  amiable,  open  countenance,  I  noticed 
that  all  the  crowns  were  different,  and  asked  Mr.  Mafferton 
about  it — whether  at  that  time  every  king  had  his  crown  made 
to  order,  and  trimmed  according  to  his  own  ideas,  or  had  to 
take  whatever  crown  was  going  ;  and  whether  it  was  his  to  do  as 
he  liked  with,  or  went  with  the  throne;  and  if  the  majority  of  the 
kings  had  behaved  properly  about  their  crowns,  and  where  they 
all  were.  But  if  Mr.  Mafferton  knew,  he  chose  to  be  equivocal 
— he  did  not  give  me  any  answer  that  I  feel  I  could  rely  upon 
sufficiently  to  put  into  print.  Then  we  passed  that  nice 
brave  crusading  Richard  the  First,  sumamed  Coeur  de  Lion,  in 
some  domestic  argument  with  his  sweet  Berengaria ;  and  Mr. 
Mafferton,  talking  about  her,  used  the  expression,  '  Fair  flower 
of  Navarre.'     But  at  that  time  he  was  carrying  the  catalogue. 

King  John  I  thought  delightful ;  I  could  not  have  believed 
it  possible  to  put  such  a  thoroughly  bad  temper  into  wax,  and  I 
said  so  to  Mr.  Mafferton,  who  agreed  with  me,  though  without 
enthusiasm.     *The   worst  king  who  ever   sat  on  the  English 


714  AX  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

tlirone  ! '  I  repeated,  meditatively,  quoting  from  Mndame 
Tussaud — *  that's  saying  a  great  deal,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Mafli'erton  ?  ' 
My  escort  said  No,  he  couldn^t  say  he  thought  it  represented 
sucli  an  acme  of  wickedness,  and  we  walked  on,  past  swarthy 
little  sad  Charles  the  Second,  in  armour  and  lace,  who  looks — 
and  how  could  he  help  it  ? — as  if  he  were  always  thinking  of  what 
happened  to  his  sire — I  suppose  the  expression  '  poppa  '  is  un- 
known among  royalties.  Mr.  Mafferton  would  not  agree  to  this 
either ;  he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind  not  to  agree  to 
anything  further. 

I  should  like  to  write  a  whole  chapter  about  Henry  the 
Eighth  as  he  looked  that  day,  though  I  daresay  it  is  an 
habitual  expression,  and  you  may  have  seen  it  often  yourself. 
He  was  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  ladies,  including 
some  of  his  wives,  stepping  forward  in  an  impulsive,  emotional 
way.  listening,  with  grief  in  both  his  eyes,  to  the  orchestra's 

rendition  of 

Bury  1     Bury  I     Let  the  grave  close  o'er, 

as  if  deeply  deprecating  the  painful  necessity  of  again  becoming 
a  widower.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  the  way  the  music  worked 
upon  his  feelings.  It  will  be  impossible  for  me  ever  to  think 
so  badly  of  him  again. 

*  What  is  your  impression  of  him  ? '  asked  Mr.  Mafferton. 

I  said  I  thought  he  was  too  funny  for  words. 

'  He  was  a  monster  !  '  my  friend  remarked,  '  and  you  are 
quite  the  first  person,  I  should  say,  who  has  ever  discovered 
anything  humorous  in  him.'  And  I  gathered  from  Mr. 
MafFerton's  tone  that,  while  it  was  pardonable  to  think  badly  of 
an  English  monarch,  it  was  improper  to  a  degree  to  find  him 
amusing. 

Then  T  observed  that  they  were  all  listening  with  Henry  the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  115 

Eighth — Philippa  of  Hainault  with  her  pink  nose,  and  the 
Black  Prince  in  mail,  and  Catharine  of  Arragon  embracing  her 
monkey,  and  Cardinal  Wolsey  in  red,  and  Caxton  in  black,  and 
Chaucer  in  poet's  grey,  listening  intently — you  could  tell  even 
by  their  reflections  in  the  glass  — as  the  orchestra  went  on — 

The  days  that  have  been,  and  never  shall  be  more  I 
Personally,  I  felt  sorry  for  them  all,  even  for  that  old  maid  in 
armour,  James  the  Second.  Mr.  Mafferton,  by  the  way,  could 
see  nothing  in  the  least  old-maidish  about  this  sovereign. 
They  must  have  had,  as  a  rule,  such  a  very  good  time  while 
it  lasted — it  must  have  been  so  thoroughly  disagreeable  to  die ! 
I  wanted  immensely  to  ask  Mr.  Mafferton — but  somehow  his 
manner  did  not  encourage  me  to  do  it — whether  in  those  very 
early  times  kings  were  able  to  wear  their  crowns  eveiy  day 
without  exciting  comment,  as  Madame  Tussaud  distinctly  gives 
you  the  idea  that  they  did.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that  in  those 
days  it  must  have  been  really  worth  while  to  be  a  king,  and  be 
different  from  other  people,  in  both  dress  and  deportment.  I 
would  not  go  through  the  other  rooms,  because  I  did  not  believe 
anything  could  be  more  beautiful  than  the  remains  of  your 
early  sovereigns,  and,  moreover,  Mr.  Mafferton  was  getting  so 
very  nearly  sulky  that  I  thought  I  had  better  not.  But  just 
through  the  door  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  one  or  two  American 
Presidents  in  black,  with  white  ties.  They  had  intelligent  faces, 
but  beside  your  Plantagenets  I  don't  mind  confessing  they  didn't 
look  anything ! 


i6  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XI 

I  HAD  not  tlie  least  expectation  of  beiug  fortunate  enough  to 
see  your  Parliament  open,  having  always  heard  that  all  the 
peeresses  wanted  to  go  on  that  occasion,  and  knowing  how  little 
sitting  accommodation  you  had  for  anybody.  Americans  find 
nothing  more  impressive  in  England  than  the  difficulty  of  get- 
ting a  look  at  your  system  of  government — our  own  is  so  very 
accessible  to  everyone  who  chooses  to  study  it,  and  to  come  and 
sit  in  the  general  gallery  of  the  House  of  Congress  or  the  Senate 
without  making  a  disturbance.  The  thing  an  American  tells 
first,  and  with  most  pride,  when  he  comes  home  after  visiting 
England,  is  that  he  has  attended  a  sitting  of  Parliament  and 
seen  Mr.  Gladstone;  if  he  has  heard  your  veteran  politician 
speak,  he  is  prouder  still.  So  I  had  cherished  the  hope  of  some- 
how getting  into  the  House  while  Parliament  was  in  session,  and 
seeing  all  the  people  we  read  so  much  about  at  home  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Irish  Question — it  was  the  thing,  I  believe,  I  had 
set  my  heart  upon  doing  most ;  but  tickets  for  the  opening  of 
Parliament  from  Mr.  Mafferton,  with  a  note  informing  Lady 
Torquilin  that  his  cousin  had  promised  to  look  after  us  on  the 
occasion,  represented  more  than  my  highest  aspiration. 

Lady  Torquilin  was  pleased,  too,  though  I  don't  think  she 
intended  to  express  her  pleasure  when  she  said,  with  an  air  of 
philosophical  acceptance  of  whatever  Fate  might  send,  '  Provi- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  \\^ 

dence  only  knows,  my  dear,  how  the  old  man  will  behave  !  He 
may  be  as  agreeable  as  possible — as  merry  as  a  grig — and  he 
may  be  in  a  temper  like  the ' ;  and  Lady  Torquilin  com- 
pressed her  lips  and  nodded  her  head  in  a  way  that  told  me  how 
her  remark  would  finish  if  she  were  not  a  member  of  the  Church 
of  England,  rather  low,  and  a  benefactor  to  deep-sea  fishermen 
and  Dr.  Barnardo,  with  a  strong  objection  to  tobacco  in  any 
form.  '  We  must  avoid  subjects  that  are  likely  to  provoke  him  : 
local  self-government  for  Ireland  has  given  him  apoplexy 
twice ;  I've  heard  of  his  getting  awful  tantrums  about  this  last 
Licensing  Bill ;  and  marriage  with  a  deceased  wife's  sister,  I 
know,  is  a  thing  to  avoid  !  * 

Then  it  dawned  upon  me  that  this  was  Mr.  Mafferton's 
cousin,  who  was  a  lord,  and  I  had  a  very  great  private  satisfac- 
tion that  I  should  see  what  he  was  like. 

*  I  remember,'  I  said.  '  This  is  the  cousin  that  you  said  was 
an  old ' 

*  Brute ! '  Lady  Torquilin  finished  for  me,  seeing  that  I 
didn't  quite  like  to.  '  So  he  is,  when  he's  in  a  rage !  I  wouldn't 
be  Lady  Mafierton,  poor  dear,  for  something!  An  ordinary 
"  K "  and  an  ordinary  temper  for  me ! '  I  asked  Lady  Tor- 
quilin what  she  meant  by  '■  an  ordinary  K  ' ;  and  in  the  next  half- 
hour  I  got  a  lesson  on  the  various  distinctions  of  the  English 
aristocracy  that  interested  me  extremely.  Lady  Torquilin's  '  K,' 
I  may  say,  while  I  am  talking  about  it,  was  the  '  O.M.G.'  kind, 
and  not  the  '  K  '  sometimes  conferred  late  in  life  upon  illustrious 
butchers.  Lady  Torquilin  didn't  seem  to  think  much  of  this 
kind  of  '  K,'  but  I  was  glad  to  hear  of  it.  It  must  be  a  great 
encouragement  to  honesty  and  industry  in  the  humbler  walks  of 
life,  or,  as  you  would  say,  among  the  masses;  and  though,  I 
suppose,  it  wouldn't  exactly  accord  with  our  theory  of  govern- 


ii8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

raent,  I  am   sorry  we  have  nothing  even  remotely  like  it  iu 
America. 

It  was  a  nice  day,  a  lovely  day,  an  extraordinary  day,  the 
February  day  Lady  Torqnilin  and  1  compromised  upon  a  hansom 
and  drove  to  the  Parliament  buildings.  A  person  has  such  a 
vivid,  distinct  recollection  of  nice  days  in  London  !  The  drive 
knocked  another  of  my  preconceived  ideas  to  pieces — the  idea 
that  Westminster  was  some  distance  off,  and  would  have  to  be 
reached  by  train — not  quite  so  far,  perhaps,  as  Washington  is 
from  New  York,  for  that  would  just  as  likely  as  not  put  it  in 
the  sea,  but  a  considerable  distance.  I  suppose  you  will  think 
that  inexcusable;  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  be  enough  interested 
in  foreign  capitals  to  verify  vague  impressions  about  them,  and 
Westminster  is  a  large-sounding  name,  that  suggests  at  least  a 
mayor  and  a  town  council  of  its  own.  It  was  odd  to  find  it 
about  twenty  minutes  from  anywhere  in  London,  and  not  to 
know  exactly  when  you  had  arrived  until  the  cab  rolled  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Abbey,  and  stopped  in  the  crowd  that  waited 
to  cheer  the  great  politicians.  Lady  Torquilin  immediately 
asked  one  of  the  policemen  which  way  to  go — I  don't  know  any- 
body who  appreciates  what  you  might  call  the  encyclopaedic 
value  of  the  London  police  more  that  Lady  Torquilin — and  he 
waved  us  on.  '  Straight  ahead,  madarne,  and  turn  in  at  the 
'orseback  statyou,'  he  said,  genially,  the  distance  being  not  more 
than  two  hundred  yards  from  where  we  stood,  and  the  turning- 
in  point  visible  On  the  way,  notwithstanding,  Lady  Tor- 
quilin asked  two  other  policemen.  My  friend  loves  the  peace  of 
mind  that  follows  absolute  certainty.  Presently  we  were  fol- 
lowing the  rustling  elegance  of  two  or  three  tall  ladies,  whom  1 
at  once  pronounced  to  be  peeresses,  through  the  broad,  quiet, 
red  corridor  that  leads  to  the  House  of  Lords. 


Ay  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  119 

We  were  among  the  very  first,  and  had  our  choice  of  the 
long,  narrow  seats  that  run  along  the  wall  in  a  terrace  on  each 
side  of  the  Chamber.  Fortunately,  Lady  Torquilin  had  attended 
other  openings  of  Parliament,  and  knew  that  we  must  sit  on  the 
left;  otherwise  we  might  just  as  likely  as  not  have  taken  our 
places  on  the  other  side,  where  there  were  only  two  or  three  old 
gentlemen  with  sticks  and  silk  hats — which,  I  reflected  after- 
wards, would  have  been  awful.  But,  as  it  happened,  we  sat  down 
very  decorously  in  our  proper  places,  and  I  tried  to  realise,  as  we 
looked  at  the  crowded  galleries  and  the  long,  narrow,  solemn 
crimson  room  with  the  throne-chair  at  one  end,  that  I  was  in 
the  British  House  of  Lords.  Our  Senate,  just  before  the  open- 
ing of  Congress,  is  so  very  different.  Most  of  the  senators  are 
grey -haired,  and  many  of  them  are  bald,  but  they  all  walk  about 
quite  nimbly,  and  talk  before  the  proceedings  begin  with  a 
certain  vivacity  ;  and  there  are  pages  running  round  with  notes 
and  documents,  and  a  great  many  excited  groups  in  the  lobbies, 
and  a  general  air  of  crisp  business  and  alacrity  everywhere.  The 
only  thing  I  could  feel  in  the  House  of  Lords  that  morning 
was  a  concentrated  atmospheric  essence  of  Importance.  I 
was  thinking  of  a  thing  Senator  Ingalls  said  to  me  two  years 
ago,  which  was  what  you  would  call  '  comic,*  when  the  idea 
struck  me  that  it  was  almost  time  for  Parliament  to  open, 
and  not  a  single  peer  had  arrived.  So  I  asked  Lady  Torquilin 
when  the  lords  might  be  expected  to  come  in.  Up  to  this 
time  we  had  been  discussing  the  millinery  bv  which  we  were 
surrounded. 

'  1  daresay  there  won't  be  many  to-day,'  said  Lady  Torquilin. 
'  Certainly  very  few  so  far ! ' 

'  Are  there  any  here  ?  '  I  asked  her. 

*()li,  yes — just  opposite,  don't  you  see,  child!  That  well- 
9 


I20  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

set-up  man  with  the  nice,  wholesome  face,  the  third  from  the 
end  in  the  second  row  from  the  bottom — that's  Lord  Rosebery ; 
and  next  him  is  the  great  beer-man — I  forget  his  title ;  and 
here  is  Lord  Mafferton  now — don't  look — coming  into  the  first 
row  from  the  bottom,  and  leaning  over  to  shake  hands  with 
Lord  Rosebery.* 

*Tell  me  when  I  can  look,'  I  said,  'because  I  want  to 
awfully.  But,  Lady  Torquilin,  are  those  peers?  They  look 
very  respectable  and  nice,  I'm  sure,  but  I  did  expect  more  in 
the  way  of  clothes.  Where  are  their  flowing  mantles,  and  their 
chains  and  swords  and  things  ?  ' 

'  Only  when  the  Queen  opens  Parliament  in  person,'  said 
Lady  Torquilin.  'Then  there  is  a  turn-out!  Now  you  can 
look  at  Lord  Mafferton — the  rude  old  man  !  Fancy  his  having 
the  impudence  to. sit  there  with  his  hat  on  !' 

I  looked  at  Lord  Mafferton,  who  certainly  had  not  removed 
his  hat — the  large,  round,  shiny  silk  hat  worn  by  every  gentle- 
man in  England,  and  every  commercial  traveller  in  America. 
Under  the  hat  he  was  very  pink  and  fat,  with  rather  a  snubby 
nose,  and  little  twinkling  blue  eyes,  and  a  suggestion  of  white 
whisker  about  the  place  where  his  chin  and  his  cheek  disap- 
peared into  his  neck.  He  wore  lavender-kid  gloves,  and  was 
inclined  to  corpulency.  I  should  not  have  trusted  this  descrip- 
tion of  a  peer  of  your  realm  if  it  had  come  from  any  other 
American  pen  than  my  own — I  should  have  set  it  down  as  a 
gross  exaggeration,  due  to  envy,  from  the  fact  that  we  can  neither 
produce  peers  in  our  own  country  nor  keep  them  there  for  any 
length  of  time  ;  but  I  was  obliged  to  believe  ray  own  eyes,  and 
that  is  the  way  they  reported  Lord  Mafferton  from  the  othei'  side 
of  your  Upper  House.  There  were  other  gentlemen  in  the  rows 
opposite — gentlemen  all  in  black,  and  gentlemen  in  light  waist- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  I2! 

coats,  bearded  and  clean-shaven,  most  of  them  elderly,  but  a  few 
surprisingly  middle-aged — for  your  natural  expectation  is  to  see 
a  peer  venerable — but  I  must  say  there  was  not  one  that  I 
would  have  picked  out  to  be  a  peer,  for  any  particular  reason, 
in  the  street.  And  it  seemed  to  me  that,  since  they  are  consti- 
tutional, as  it  were,  there  ought  to  be  some  way  of  knowing 
them.  I  reasoned  again,  however,  that  perhaps  my  lack  of  dis- 
crimination was  due  to  my  not  being  accustomed  to  seeing  peers 
— that  possibly  the  delicate  distinctions  and  values  that  make 
up  a  peer  would  be  perfectly  evident  to  a  person  born,  so  to 
speak,  under  the  shadow  of  the  aristocracy.  And  in  the  mean- 
time the  proceedings  began  by  everybody  standing  up.  I  don't 
know  whether  I  actually  expected  a  procession  and  a  band,  but 
when  I  discovered  that  we  were  all  standing  while  four  or  five 
gentlemen  in  red  gowns  walked  to  the  other  end  of  the  room 
and  took  chairs,  my  emotions  were  those  of  blank  surprise. 
Presently  I  felt  Lady  Torquilin  give  an  emphatic  tug  to  my 
skirt.  '  Sit  down,  child ! '  she  said.  '-  Everybody  else  has  !  Do 
you  want  to  make  a  speech  ?  * — and  I  sat  down  quickly.  Then  I 
observed  that  a  gentleman  in  black,  also  in  fancy  dress,  was 
reading  something  indistinctly  to  the  four  or  five  red-gowned 
gentlemen,  who  looked  very  solemn  and  stately,  but  said  nothing. 
It  was  so  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  understand,  that  I  did  not 
quite  catch  what  was  said  to  another  gentleman  in  black  with 
buckled  shoes,  but  it  must  have  been  to  the  purport  of  '  Go  and 
fetch  it ! '  for  he  suddenly  began  to  walk  out  backwards,  stop- 
ping at  every  few  steps  to  bow  with  great  deference  to  them  of 
the  red  gowns,  which  must  have  been  very  trying,  for  nobody 
returned  the  bows,  and  he  never  could  tell  who  might  have 
come  in  behind  him.  '  I  suppose  he  has  gone  out  for  a  minute 
to  get  something,'  I  said  to  Lady  Torquilin ;  and  then  she  told 


122  •  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

me  what,  of  course,  1  ought  to  have  known  if  1  had  refreshed 
myself  with  a  little  English  history  before  starting — that  he  was 
the  Usher  of  the  Black  Rod,  and  had  been  sent  to  bring  the 
members  of  the  other  Parliament.  And  presently  there  was  a 
great  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  corridors  outside,  and  your  House 
of  Commons  came  hurrying  to  the  '  bar,'  I  believe  it  is  called,  of 
your  House  of  Lords.  It  was  wonderfully  interesting  to  look  at, 
to  a  stranger,  that  crowd  of  members  of  your  Lower  House  as  it 
came,  without  ceremony,  to  the  slender  brass  rod  and  stopped 
there,  because  it  could  come  no  farther — pressing  against  it, 
laying  hands  upon  it,  craning  over  it,  and  yet  held  back  by  the 
visible  and  invisible  force  of  it.  Compared  with  the  well-fed 
and  well-groomed  old  gentlemen  who  sat  comfortably  inside, 
these  outsiders  looked  lean  and  unkempt ;  but  there  were  so 
many  of  them,  and  they  seemed  so  much  more  in  earnest  than 
the  old  gentlemen  on  the  benches,  that  the  power  of  the  brass 
rod  seemed  to  me  extraordinary.  I  should  not  have  been  an 
American  if  I  had  not  wondered  at  it,  and  whether  the  peers  in 
mufti  would  not  some  day  be  obliged  to  make  a  habit  of  dressing 
up  in  their  mantles  and  insignia  on  these  occasions  to  impress 
the  Commoners  properly  with  a  sense  of  difference  and  a  reason 
for  their  staying  outside. 

Then,  as  soon  as  they  were  all  ready  to  pay  attention,  the 
Vice-Chancellor  read  the  Queen's  letter,  in  which  Her  Majesty, 
so  far  as  I  could  understand,  regretted  her  inability  to  be 
present,  told  them  all  a  good  deal  about  what  she  had  been  doing 
since  she  wrote  last,  and  closed  by  sending  her  kind  regards  and 
best  wishes — a  very  pleasant  letter,  I  thought,  and  well-written. 
Then  we  all  stood  up  again  while  the  gentlemen  in  red,  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  and  the  others  walked  out ;  after  which  everybody 
dispersed,  and  I  found  myself  shaking  hands  with  Lord  Malfer- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


123 


ton  in  a  pudgy,  hearty  way^  as  he  and  Lady  Torquilin  and  I 
departed  together. 

'  So  this  is  our  little  Yankee  ! '  said  Lord  Mafferton,  with 
his  fat  round  chin  stretched  out  sideways,  and  his  hands  behind 
his  back.  Now  I  am  quite  five-feet  eight,  and  I  do  not  like 
being  called  names, 
but  I  found  a  diffi- 
culty in  telling 
Lord  Maff'erton 
that  I  was  not  their 
little  Yankee ;  so  I 


smiled,  and  said 
nothing.  '  Well, 
well !  Come  over 
the  "  duckpond  " 
— isn't  that  what 
you  call  the  Atlan- 
tic Ocean  ? — to  see 
how  fast  old  Eng- 
land is  going  to 
pieces,  eh  ? ' 

'  Oh  ! '  said  Lady  Torquilin, '  I  think  Miss  Wick  is  delighted 
with  England,  Lord  Mafferton.' 

'  Yes,'  I  said, '  I  am.     Delighted  with  it  !     Why  should  any- 
body think  it  is  going  to  pieces  ? ' 

'  Oh,    it's   a  popular    fancy   in   some    quarters,'   said   Lord 


LORD    MAFFERTON. 


124  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Mafferton.  Being  a  lord,  I  don't  suppose  he  winked  at  Lady 
Torquilin,  but  he  did  something  very  like  it. 

*I  should  call  it  a  popular  fallacy,'  I  declared;  at  which 
Lord  Mafferton  laughed,  and  said,  *  It  was  all  very  well,  it  was 
all  very  well,'  exactly  like  any  old  grandpapa.  '  Miss  Wick 
would  like  a  look  over  the  place,  I  suppose,'  he  said  to  Lady 
Torquilin.  *You  think  it  would  be  safe,  eh?  No  explosives 
concealed  about  her — she  doesn't  think  of  blowing  us  up  ? ' 
And  this  very  jocular  old  peer  led  the  way  through  a  labyrinth 
of  chambers  and  corridors  of  which  I  can't  possibly  remember 
the  locality  or  the  purpose,  because  he  went  so  fast. 

'  No  doubt  you've  heard  of  Cromwell,'  he  said  beside  one 
door.  I  should  have  liked  to  know  why  he  asked  me,  if  there 
was  no  doubt  of  it ;  but  1  suppose  a  lord  is  not  necessarily  a 
logician.  'This  is  the  room  in  which  he  signed  the  death- 
warrant  of  Charles  the  First.' 

'  Dear  me,'  I  said.  '  The  one  that  he's  holding  a  copy  of 
on  his  lap  at  Madame  Tussaud's  ? ' 

'  I  dare  say  !  I  dare  say  ! '  said  Lord  Mafferton.  '  But  not 
so  fast,  my  dear  young  lady,  not  so  fast !  You  mustn't  go  m, 
you  know.  That's  not  allowable ! '  and  he  whisked  us  away  to 
the  Library.  '  Of  course,  Miss  Wick  understands,'  he  said  to  Lady 
Torquilin,  '  that  every  word  spoken  here  above  a  whisper  means 
three  days  in  a  dungeon  on  bread  and  water ! '  By  this  time 
my  ideas  of  peers  had  become  so  confused  that  I  was  entirely 
engaged  in  trying  to  straighten  them  out,  and  had  very  little 
to  say  of  any  sort ;  but  Lord  Mafferton  chatted  continually  as 
we  walked  through  the  splendid  rooms,  only  interrupting  him- 
self now  and  then  to  remind  me  of  the  dungeon  and  the  penalty 
of  talking.  It  was  very  difficult  getting  a  first  impression  of 
the  English  House  of  Parliament  and  an  English  peer  at  the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  125 

same  time — they  continually  interrupted  each  other.  It  was  in 
the  Eoyal  Banqueting  Hall,  for  instance,  where  I  was  doing  my 
best  to  meditate  upon  scenes  of  the  past,  that  Lord  Mafferton 
stated  to  Lady  Torquilin  his  objection  to  the  inside  of  an  omnibus, 
and  this  in  itself  was  distracting.  It  would  never  occur  to  any- 
body in  America  to  think  of  a  peer  and  an  omnibus  together. 
The  vestibule  of  the  House  of  Commons  was  full  of  gentlemen 
walking  about  and  talking ;  but  there  was  a  great  deliberateness 
about  the  way  it  was  done — no  excitement,  and  every  man  in  his 
silently-expressive  silk  hat.  They  all  seemed  interested  in  each 
other  in  an  observing  way,  too,  and  whether  to  bow  or  not  to  bow ; 
and  when  Lord  Mafferton  recognised  any  of  them,  he  was  usually 
recognised  back  with  great  cordiality.  You  don't  see  so  much 
of  that  when  Congress  opens.  The  members  in  the  lobby  are 
usually  a  great  deal  too  much  wrapped  up  in  business  to  take 
much  notice  of  each  other.  I  observed,  too,  that  the  British 
Government  does  not  provide  cuspidores  for  its  legislators,  which 
struck  me  as  reflecting  very  favourably  upon  the  legislative  sense 
of  propriety  here,  especially  as  there  seemed  to  be  no  obvious 
demand  for  such  a  thing. 

'  Bless  you,  my  dear  young  lady,  you  mustn't  go  in  fhere !  * 
exclaimed  Lord  Mafferton  at  the  door  of  the  House,  as  I  stepped 
in  to  take  a  perfectly  inoffensive  look  at  it.  *  Out  with  you 
quick,  or  they'll  have  you  off  to  the  Tower  before  you  can  say 
George  Washington  ! ' 

'  But  why  ? '  I  asked,  quite  breathless  with  my  sudden  exit. 

*  Young  people  should  never  ask  "  why  ? " '  said  Lord 
Mafferton,  serio-comically.  '  Thank  your  American  stars  that 
Salisbury  or  any  of  those  fellows  were  not  about ! ' 

This  peer  evidently  thought  I  was  very,  very  young — about 
twelve;  but  I  have  noticed  since  that  not  only  peers,  but  all 


126 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


agreeable  old  gentlemen  in  England,  have  a  habit  of  dating  you 
back  in  this  way.  It  is  a  kindly,  well-meant  attitude,  but  it 
leaves  you  without  very  much  to  say. 


mSARRANOEP    MY    FEATURES    FOR    LIFE 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  177 

I  thought  feminine  privileges  in  your  House  of  Commons  very 
limited  indeed  then,  but  considerably  more  so  when  I  attended  a 
sitting  with  Lady  Torquilin  a  week  later,  and  disarranged  my 
features  for  life  trying  to  look  through  the  diamonds  of  the  iron 
grating  with  which  Parliament  tries  to  screen  itself  from  the 
criticism  of  its  lady  relations.  Lord  MafFerton  came  up  that 
day  with  us,  and  explained  that  the  grating  was  to  prevent  the 
ladies  from  throwing  themselves  at  the  heads  of  the  unmarried 
members — a  singular  precaution.  The  only  other  reason  I  could 
hear  why  it  should  not  be  taken  down  was  that  nobody  had  done 
it  since  it  was  put  up — a  remarkably  British  reason,  and  calcu- 
lated, as  most  things  seem  to  be  in  this  country,  to  last. 

Aad  I  saw  your  Prince  that  afternoon.  He  came  into  the 
Peers'  Gallery  in  a  light  overcoat,  and  sat  down  with  two  or 
three  friends  to  watch  his  people  governing  their  country  below. 
He  seemed  thoroughly  interested,  and  at  times,  when  Mr.  OBrien 
or  Mr.  O'Connor  said  something  that  looked  toward  the  dis- 
memberment of  his  empire,  amused.  And  it  was  an  instructive 
sight  to  see  your  future  king  pleased  and  edified,  and  unen- 
cumbered by  any  disagreeable  responsibilities,  looking  on. 


128  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XII 

I  TOLD  Lady  Torquilin  that  the  expression  struclc  me  as 
profane. 

*  How  ridiculous  you  are,  child !  It's  a  good  old  English 
word.  Nobody  will  understand  you  if  you  talk  about  your 
"  rubbers "  in  this  country.  "  Goloshes,"  certainly.  G-o- 
1-o-S'h-e-s,  "goloshes."  Now,  go  directly  and  put  them  on, 
and  don't  be  impertinent  about  the  English  language  in  Eng- 
land, whatever  you  may  be  out  of  it ! ' 

I  went  away  murmuring,  ^ "  G-o-l-o-s-h-e-s,  goloshes"! 
What  a  perfectly  awful — literally  unutterable  word  !  No,  I  love 
Lady  Torquilin,  and  I  like  her  England,  but  I'll  never,  never, 
never  say  "  goloshes  "  !  I'd  almost  rather  swear  ! '  And  as  I 
slipped  on  the  light,  thin,  flexible  articles  manufactured,  I 
believe,  in  Rochester,  N.Y.,  and  privately  compared  them  with 
the  remarkable  objects  worn  by  the  British  nation  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  its  feet  dry,  the  difference  in  the  descriptive 
terms  gave  me  a  certain  satisfaction. 

Lady  Torquilin  and  I  were  going  shopping.  I  had  been 
longing  to  shop  in  London  ever  ^ince  I  arrived,  but,  as  Lady 
Torquilin  remarked^  my  trunks  seemed  to  make  it  almost  un- 
reasonable. So  up  to  this  time  I  had  been  obliged  to  content 
myself  with  looking  at  the  things  in  the  windows,  until  Lady 
Torquilin  said  she  really  couldn't  spend  so  much  time  in  front 


AY  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  129 

of  shop- windows — we  had  better  go  inside.  Besides,  she 
argued,  of  course  there  was  this  to  be  said — if  you  bought  a  good 
thing,  there  it  was — always  a  good  thing!  '  And  it  isn't  as  if 
you  were  obliged  to  pinch,  my  dear.  I  would  be  the'  last  one 
to  counsel  extravagance,'  said  Lady  Torquilin.  '  Therefore 
we'll  go  to  the  cheapest  place  first ' — and  we  got  an  omnibus.  It 
seemed  full  of  people  who  were  all  going  to  the  cheapest  place, 
and  had  already  come,  some  of  them  a  long  way,  to  go  to  it, 
judging  by  their  fares.  They  were  not  poor  people,  nor 
respectably-darned  people,  nor  shabby-genteel  people.  Some  of 
them  looked  like  people  with  incomes  that  would  have  enabled 
them  to  avoid  the  cheapest  place,  and  some  gave  you  the  idea 
that,  if  it  were  not  for  the  cheapest  place,  they  would  not  look 
so  well.  But  they  had  an  invariable  expression  of  content 
with  the  cheapest  place,  or  appreciation  of  it,  that  made  me 
quite  certain  they  would  all  get  out  when  we  stopped  there ; 
and  they  did. 

We  went  in  with  a  throng  that  divided  and  hurried  hither 
and  thither  through  long  '  departments,'  upstairs  and  down,  past 
counters  heaped  with  cheapnesses,  and  under  billowing  clouds 
and  streaming  banners  of  various  colours,  marked  Is.  \\dj.  and 
ll|c2.  in  very  black  letters  on  a  very  white  ground.  The  whole 
place  spoke  of  its  cheapness,  invited  you  to  approach  and  have 
your  every  want  supplied  at  the  lowest  possible  scale  of  profit — for 
cash.  Even  the  clerks — as  we  say  in  America,  incorrectly,  I 
believe — the  people  behind  the  counter  suggested  the  sweet 
reasonableness  of  the  tariff ;  not  that  I  mean  anything  invidious, 
but  they  seemed  to  be  drawn  from  an  unpretending,  inexpensive 
class  of  humanity.  The  tickets  claimed  your  attention  every- 
where, and  held  it,  the  prices  on  them  were  so  remarkably  low ; 
and  it  was  to  me  at  first  a  matter  of  regret  that  they  were  all 


I30 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


attached  to  articles  I  could  not  want  under  any  circumstances. 
For,  the  moment  I  went  in.  I  succumbed  to  the  cheapest  place  ; 
I  desired  to  avail  myself  of  it  to  any  extent — to  get  the  benefit 


*  THE   WHOLE    PLACE    SPOKE    OF   ITS   CHEAPNESS  ' 

of  those  fascinating  figures  personally  and  immediately.  I  fol- 
lowed Lady  Torquilin  with  eagerness,  exclaiming :  but  nothing 
would  induce  her  to  stop  anywhere ;  she  went  straight  for  the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  131 

trifles  she  wanted,  and  I  perforce  after  her.  '  There  are  some 
things,  my  dear,'  she  said,  when  we  reached  the  right  counter, 
'  that  one  'must  come  here  for,  but  beyond  those  few  odds  and 
ends — well,  I  leave  you  to  judge  for  yourself.' 

This  was  calculated  to  dash  a  pei son's  enthusiasm,  and  mine 
was  dashed  at  once.  There  is  nothing,  in  shopping,  like  a 
friend's  firm  and  outspoken  opinion,  to  change  your  views.  I 
began  to  think  unfavourably  of  the  cheapest  place  immediately, 
and  during  the  twenty-five  minutes  of  valuable  time  which  Lady 
Torquilin  spent,  in  addition  to  some  small  silver,  upon  a  box  of 
pink  paper  trimmings  for  pudding-dishes,  I  had  arrived  at  a  state 
of  objection  to  the  cheapest  place,  which  intensified  as  we 
climbed  more  stairs,  shared  more  air  with  the  British  Public  of 
the  cheapest  place,  and  were  jostled  at  more  counters.  '  For,' 
Lady  Torquilin  said,  '  now  that  we  are  here,  though  1  loathe 
coming,  except  that  it's  something  you  ought  to  do,  we  really 
might  as  well  see  what  there  is  ! ' — and  she  found  that  there  were 
quite  a  number  of  little  things  at  about  a  shilling  and  a  ha'penny 
that  she  absolutely  needed,  and  would  have  to  pay  'jnst  double 
for,  my  dear,  anywhere  else.'  By  that  time  my  objection  be- 
came active,  and  embraced  the  cheapest  place  and  everything 
connected  with  it,  quite  unreasonably.  For  there  was  no  doubt 
about  the  genuineness  of  the  values  ofr»>red  all  over  its  counters, 
or  about  the  fact  that  the  clerks  were  doing  the  best  they  could 
to  sell  seven  separate  shillings'-worth  at  the  same  moment  to 
different  individuals,  or  of  the  respectability  of  the  seven  people 
who  were  spending  the  seven  shillings.  It  would  have  been  a 
relief,  indeed,  to  have  detected  something  fraudulent  among  the 
bargains,  or  some  very  great  adventuress  among  the  customers. 
It  was  the  deadly  monotony  of  goodishness  and  cheapishness  in 
everything  and  everybody  that  oppressed  you.     There  were  no 


132  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

heights  of  excellence  and  no  contrasting  depths — all  one  level  of 
quality  wherever  you  looked — so  that  the  things  they  sold  at  the 
cheapest  place — sold  with  mechanical  respect,  and  as  fast  as  they 
could  tie  them  up — seemed  to  lack  all  individuality,  and  to  have 
no  reason  for  being,  except  to  become  parcels.  There  was  none 
of  the  exultation  of  bargain-getting ;  the  bargains  were  on  a 
regular  system  of  fixed  laws — the  poetic  delight  of  an  unex- 
pected '  reduction '  was  wholly  absent.  The  cheapest  place 
resolved  itself  into  a  vast,  well-organised  Opportunity,  and  inside 
you  saw  the  British  Public  and  the  Opportunity  together. 

•  'Ere  is  your  chainge,  madam,'  said  the  hollow-eyed  young 
woman  who  had  been  waiting  upon  Lady  Torquilin  in  the  matter 
of  a  letter-weight  and  a  Japanese  umbrella.  '  Thank  you,' 
said  Lady  Torquilin.  '  I*m  afraid  you  get  very  tired,  don't  you, 
before  the  day  is  over?'  my  friend  asked  the  young  woman, 
with  as  sweet  a  smile  as  she  could  have  given  anybody.  The 
young  woman  smiled  back  again,  and  said,  '  Very,  laadame';  but 
that  was  all,  for  three  other  people  wanted  her.  I  put  this  in 
because  it  is  one  of  the  little  things  she  often  says  that  show  the 
niceness  of  Lady  Torquilin. 

'  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  the  cheapest  place  ? '  asked  Lady 
Torquilin  as  we  walked  together  in  the  Edgware  Road.  I  told 
her  as  I  have  told  you.  '  H'mph  ! '  said  she.  '  It's  not  a  shop 
I  like  myself,  but  that's  what  I  call  being  too  picksome  !  You 
get  what  you  want,  and  if  you  don't  want  it  you  leave  it,  and 
why  should  you  care !  Now,  by  way  of  variety,  we'll  go  to  the 
dearest  place ; '  and  the  omnibus  we  got  into  rattled  off  in  the 
direction  of  Bond  Street.  It  struck  me  then,  and  often  since, 
how  oddly  difierent  London  is  from  an  American  city  to  go 
shopping  in.  At  home  the  large,  important  stores  are  pretty 
much  together,  in  the  business  part  of  the  city,  and  anybody  can 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  133 

tell  from  the  mere  buildings  what  to  expect  in  the  way  of  style 
and  price.  In  London  you  can't  tell  at  all,  and  the  well-known 
shops  are  scattered  over  square  miles  of  streets,  by  twos  an^ 
threes,  in  little  individaal  towns,  each  with  its  own  congregation 
of  smaller  shops,  and  its  own  butchers  and  bakers  and  news- 
stands, and  post-office  and  squares  and  *  places,'  and  blind  alleys 
and  strolling  cats  and  hand  organs ;  and  to  get  from  one  to 
another  of  the  little  towns  it  is  necessary  to  make  a  journey  in 
an  omnibus.  Of  course,  I  know  there  are  a  few  places  pre- 
eminent in  reputation  and  '  form  '  and  price — above  all  in  price — 
which  gather  in  a  few  well-known  streets ;  but  life  in  all  these 
little  centres  which  make  up  London  would  be  quite  complete 
without  them.  They  seem  to  exist  for  the  benefit  of  that  extra- 
vagant element  here  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  small  respect- 
able houses  and  the  little  domestic  squares,  bat  hovers  over  the 
city  during  the  time  of  year  when  the  sun  shines  and  the  fogs 
are  not,  living  during  that  time  in  notable  localities,  under  the 
special  inspection  of  the  '  Morning  Post.'  The  people  who 
really  live  in  London — the  people  of  the  little  centres — can  quite 
well  ignore  these  places ;  they  have  their  special  shop  in 
Uxbridge  Road  or  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  if  they  tire  of 
their  own  particular  local  cut,  they  can  make  morning  trips  from 
Uxbridge  Road  to  the  High  Street,  Kensington,  or  from  either 
to  Westboume  Grove.  To  Americans  this  is  very  novel  and 
amusing,  and  we  get  a  great  deal  of  extra  pleasure  out  of  shop- 
ping in  London  in  sampling,  so  to  speak,  the  diflferent  sub- 
municipalities. 

While  I  was  thinking  these  things.  Lady  Torquilin  poked 
me  with  her  parasol  from  the  other  end  of  the  omnibus. 
'  Tell  him  to  stop  ! '  she  said,  and  I  did  ;  at  least,  the  gentleman 
in  the  comer  made  the  request  for  me.     That  gentleman  in  the 


134 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


corner  is  a  feature  of  your  omnibus  system,  1  think.     His  arm, 
or  his  stick,  or  his  umbrella,  is  always  at  the  service  oi  any  lady 


'  THAT    OENTIjEMAN    IN    THE    CORNER   IS   A    FEATURE    OF    YOUR    OMNIBUS    SYSTEM, 

I    THINK  ' 

who  wants  the  bell  rung.     It  seems  to  be  a  duty  that  goes  with 
the  corner  seat,  cheerfully  accepted  by  every  man  that  sits  there. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  135 

We  had  arrived  in  Bond  Street,  at  the  dearest  place. 
Frou)  what  Lady  Torquilin  told  me,  I  gathered  that  Bond  Street 
was  a  regular  haunt  for  dearest  places ;  but  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  any  stranger  to  suppose  so  from  walking  through  it 
— it  is  so  u  arrow  and  crooked  and  irregular,  and  the  shops  are 
so  comparatively  insignificant  after  the  grand  sweep  of  Regent 
Street  and  the  wide  variety  of  the  circuses.  For  one,  I  should 
have  thought  circuses  would  be  the  best  possible  places  for  busi- 
ness in  London,  not  only  because  the  address  is  so  easily  remem- 
bered, but  because  once  you  get  into  them  they  are  so  extremely 
difficult  to  get  out  of.     However,  a  stranger  never  can  tell. 

Inside,  the  dearest  place  was  a  stronger  contrast  to  the 
cheapest  place  than  I  could  describe  by  any  antithesis.  There 
was  an  exclusive  emptiness  about  it  that  seemed  to  suggest  a 
certain  temerity  in  coming  in,  and  explained,  considered  com- 
mercially, why  the  rare  visitors  should  have  such  an  expensive 
time  of  it.  One  or  two  tailor-made  ladies  discussed  something 
in  low  tones  with  an  assistant,  and  beside  these  there  was  no- 
body but  a  couple  of  serious-minded  shopwalkers,  some  very 
elegant  young  ladies-in-waiting,  and  the  dummies  that  called 
your  attention  to  the  fashions  they  were  exhibiting.  The 
dummies  were  headless,  but  probably  by  the  variety  of  their 
clothes  they  struck  you  as  being  really  the  only  personalities  in  the 
shop.  We  looked  at  some  of  them  before  advancing  far  into  the 
august  precincts  of  the  dearest  place,  and  Lady  Torquilin  had  a 
sweeping  opinion  of  them.  '■  Hideous !  I  call  them,'  she  said  ; 
but  she  said  it  in  rather  a  hushed  tone,  quite  different  from  the 
one  she  would  have  used  in  the  cheapest  place,  and  I  am  sure 
the  shopwalker  did  not  overhear.  '  Bulgarian  atrocities  !  How 
in  the  world  people  imagine  such  things !     And  as  to  setting  to 

work  to  'mdli&  them ' 

10 


£36  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

I  can't  say  I  agreed  with  Lady  Torquilin,  for  there  was  a 
distinct  idea  in  all  the  dresses,  and  a  person  always  respects  an 
idea,  whether  it  is  pretty  or  not ;  but  neither  can  I  profess  an 
admiration  for  the  fashions  of  the  dearest  place.  They  were 
rather  hard  and  unsympathetic ;  they  seemed  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing to  be  in  some  degree  striking ;  their  motto  seemed  to  be, 
'  Let  us  achieve  a  difference  ' — presumably  from  the  fashions  of 
places  that  were  only  dear  in  the  comparative  degree.  While 
we  were  looking  at  them,  one  of  the  pale  young  women  strolled 
languidly  up  and  remarked,  with  an  absent  expression,  that  one 
of  them  was  '  considered  a  smart  little  gown,  moddam ! '  *  Smart 
enough,  I  daresay,'  said  Lady  Torquilin,  with  a  slightly  invidious 
emphasis  on  the  adjective ;  whereat  the  young  woman  said 
nothing,  but  looked  volumes  of  repressed  astonishment  at  the 
ignorance  implied.  Lady  Torquilin  went  on  to  describe  the  kind 
of  dress  I  thought  of  buying. 

'  Certainly,  moddam !  Will  you  take  a  seat,  moddam  ? 
Something  quite  simple  I  think  you  said,  moddam,  and  in 
muslin.  I'll  be  with  you  in  one  moment,  moddam.'  And  the 
young  woman  crawled  away  with  the  negligence  that  became 
the  dearest  place.  After  an  appreciable  time  she  returned  with 
her  arms  full  of  what  they  used  to  call,  so  very  correctly,  '  fur- 
belows,' in  spotted  and  flowered  muslins. 

'  Dearie  me  ! '  said  Lady  Torquilin.  '  That's  precisely  what 
I  wore  when  I  was  a  girl ! ' 

*  Yes,  moddam ! '  said  the  young  woman,  condescending  to 
the  ghost  of  a  smile.  '  The  old  styles  are  all  comin'  in  again' — 
at  which  burst  of  responsiveness  she  suddenly  brought  herself 
up  sharply,  and  assumed  a  manner  which  forbade  you  to  pre- 
sume upon  it. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


137 


I  picked  up  one  of  the  garlanded  muslins  and  asked  the  price 
of  it.  It  had  three  frills  round  the  bottom  and  various  irrele- 
vant ribbon-bows. 


Certainly,  moddam ! 
as 


One 
moment,  moddam ! '  as  she 
looked  at  the  ticket  attached. 
'  This  one  is  seventeen  guineas, 
moddam.  Silk  foundation.  A 
Paris  model,  moddam,  but  I 
dare  say  we  could  copy  it  for 
you  for  less.' 

Lady  Torquilin  and  I  made 
a  simultaneous  movement,  and 
looked  at  each  other  in  the 
expressive  way  that  all  ladies 
understand  who  go  shopping 
with  each  other. 

'Thanks!'  I  said.  <It  is 
much  too  expensive  for  me.' 

'We  have  nothing  of  this 
style  under  fifteen  guineas, 
moddam,'  replied  the  young 
woman,  with  a  climax  of  weary 
frigidity.  '  Then,  shall  we  go  ?  ' 
I  asked  Lady  Torquilin — and 
we  went. 

•  What  a  price ! '  said  Lady 
Torquilin,  as  we  left  the  dearest 
place  behind  us. 

I  said  I  thought  it  was  an  insult — eighty-five  dollars  for  a 
ready-made  sprigged  muslin  dress  ! — to  the  intelligence  of  the 


THE  YOUNG  WOMAN  CRAWLED  AWAY  WITH 
THE  NEGLIGENCE  THAT  BECAME  THE 
DEAREST  PLACE  ' 


138 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


people  who  were  expected  to  buy  it.    That,  for  my  part,  I  should 
feel  a  distinct  loss  of  self-respect   in  buying  anything  at  the 

dearest    place.     What    would  I  be 
paying  for  ? 

'  For  being  able  to  say  that  it 
came  from  the  dearest  place,'  said 
Lady  Torquiiin.  'But  I  thought 
you  Americans  didn't  mind  what 
anything  cost.' 

That  misconception  of  Lady 
Torquilin's  is  a  popular  one,  and  1 
was  at  some  pains  to  rectify  it.  '  We 
don't/  I  said,  '  if  we  recognise  the 
fairness  of  it ;  but  nobody  resents 
being  imposed  upon  more  than  an 
American,  Lady  Torquiiin.  We 
have  our  idiots,  like  other  nations, 
and  I  daresay  a  good  many  of  them 
come  to  London  every  year  and  deal 
exclusively  at  the  dearest  place ;  but 
as  a  nation,  though  we  don't  scrimp, 
we  do  like  the  feeling  that  we  are 
paying  for  value  received.' 

'  Well,'  said  Lady  Torquiiin,  '  I 
believe  that  is  the  case.  I  know 
Americans  talk  a  great  deal  about 
the  price  of  things — more,  I  consider, 
than  is  entertaining  sometimes.'  I 
said  I  knew  they  did — it  was  a 
national  fault — and  what  did  Lady  Torquiiin  think  the  dress 
I   had   on   cost,   just   to   compare   it   with   that   muslin,    and 


*A  PERSON   OF   GREAT   DIGNITY 
IN    HIGH,    BLACK    SLEEVES  ' 


AN  AMERICAN  CTRL  IN  LONDON  139 

Chicago  was  by  no  means  a  cheap  place  for  anything.  Lady 
Torquilin  said  she  hadn't  an  idea — our  dollars  were  so  difficult 
to  reckon  in;  but  what  did  1  think  liers  came  to — and  not 
a  scrap  of  silk  lining  about  it.  And  so  the  time  slipped  away 
until  we  arrived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cavendish  Square, 
at  what  Lady  Torquilin  called  '  the  happy  medium,'  where 
the  windows  were  tempting,  and  the  shopwalker  smiled,  and 
the  lady-in-waiting  was  a  person  of  great  dignity,  in  high, 
black  sleeves,  with  a  delightful  French  accent  when  she  talked, 
which  she  very  seldom  forgot,  and  only  contradicted  when  she 
said  '  'Ow '  and  '  'elliotrope,'  and  where  things  cost  just  about 
what  they  did  in  America.  I  have  gone  very  patiently  ever 
since  to  the  happy  medium,  partly  to  acquire  the  beautiful  com- 
posure of  the  lady-in-waiting,  partly  to  enjoy  the  respect 
which  all  Americans  like  so  much  in  a  well-conducted  English 
shop,  and  partly  because  at  the  happy  medium  they  understand 
how  to  turn  shopping  into  the  pleasant  artistic  pastime  it  ought 
to  be,  which  everybody  in  America  is  in  far  too  much  of  a  hurry 
to  make  a  fortune  and  retire  to  do  for  his  customers.  I  am  on 
the  most  agreeable  footing  with  the  lady  in  the  sleeves  now,  and 
I  have  observed  that,  as  our  acquaintance  progresses,  her  com- 
mand of  English  consonantal  sounds  remarkably  increases.  But 
I  have  never  been  able  to  reconcile  myself,  even  theoretically, 
either  to  the  cheapest  place,  in  the  Edgware  Road,  or  the  dearest 
place,  in  Bond  Street. 


T^O 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XIII 


A 


S  a  nation  I  can't  bear  'em — indi- 
vidually, I  like  'em  fairly  well ,'  read 
out  Lady  Torquilin  from  a  letter  at  break- 
fast. '  Bless  me ! '  my  friend  went  on, 
'  she's  talking  about  Americans,  and  she's 
coming  to  see  "  your  specimen  " — mean- 
ing you,  child  — this  very  afternoon.' 

So  she  did.     She  came  to  see  me  that 

very  afternoon — the    lady   who   couldn't 

bear  us  as  a  nation,  but  individually  liked 

us   fairly  well.      Her  name    was  Corke, 

and  she  belonged,  Lady  Torquilin  said,  to 

the  Corkes.     I  heard  all  about  her  before 

she  came.     She  was  a  lady  of  moderate 

income,  unmarried,  about  ten  years  older 

than  I  was.     She  knew  all  about  every- 

thing.     '  You   never  saw  such  a  reader, 

my  dear !    I  won't  say  it  happens  often,  for  that  it  does  not,  but 

Peter  Corke  has  made  me  feel  like  a  perfect  ignoramus.' 

'  Peter  Corke  ?  '  I  said,  with  some  surprise. 

'  Too  ridiculous,  I  call  it !     Her  proper  name  is  Catharine 

Clarissa,  but  she  hates  her  proper  name — sensible  girl  as  she  is 

in  every  other  way — prefers  Peter  !     And  if  she  happens  to  take 

a  fancy  to  you,  she   will    tell   you  all   manner  of  iufercsting 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  141 

things.  For  old  holes  and  corners,  I  always  say,  go  to  Peter 
Corke/ 

'  I'm  glad/  I  said,  '  that  she  likes  us,  individually,  fairly  well 
— it's  the  only  way  in  which  I  would  have  any  chance !  But 
she  won't  like  my  accent.' 

*  If  she  doesn't,'  Lady  Torquilin  said,  '  I  promise  you  she'll 
tell  you.     And  you  won't  mind  a  bit.* 

When  Miss  Corke  arrived  I  forgot  entirely  about  the  doubt- 
fulness of  her  liking  me — I  was  too  much  absorbed  in  liking  her. 
She  was  rather  a  small  person,  with  a  great  deal  of  dignity  in 
her  shoulders  and  a  great  deal  of  humour  in  her  face — the  most 
charming  face  I  have  seen  in  England,  and  I  can't  even  make 
an  exception  in  favour  of  the  Princess  of  Wales.  I  may  tell  you 
that  she  had  delightful  twinkling  brown  eyes,  and  hair  a  shade 
darker,  and  the  colour  and  health  and  energy  that  only  an 
English  woman  possesses  at  thirty,  without  being  in  the  least 
afraid  that  you  could  pick  her  out  in  the  street,  or  anywhere — 
she  would  not  like  that — and  being  put  in  print,  so  that 
people  would  know  her,  at  all ;  it's  a  thing  I  wouldn't  do  on  any 
account,  knowing  her  feelings.  It  is  onl}^  because  I  am  so  well 
convinced  that  I  can't  tell  you  what  she  was  like  that  I  try, 
which  you  may  consider  a  feminine  reason,  if  you  want  to. 
Miss  Peter  Corke's  personality  made  you  think  at  once  of  Santa 
Glaus  and  a  profound  philosopher — could  you  have  a  more  diffi- 
cult combination  to  describe  than  that  ?  While  you  listened  to 
a  valuable  piece  of  advice  from  her  lips  you  might  be  quite 
certain  that  she  had  an  orange  for  you  in  the  hand  behind  her 
back ;  and  however  you  might  behave,  you  would  get  the 
orange.  Part  of  her  charm  was  the  atmosphere  of  gay  benefi- 
cence she  carried  about  with  her,  that  made  you  want  to  edge 
your  chair  closer  to  wherever  she  was  sitting  ;  and   part  of  it 


142  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

was  the  remarkable  interest  she  had  in  everything  that  con- 
cerned you — a  sort  of  interest  that  made  you  feel  as  if  such  in- 
formation as  you  could  give  about  yourself  was  a  direct  and 
valuable  contribution  to  the  sum  of  her  knowledge  of  humanity  ; 
and  part  of  it  was  the  salutary  sincerity  of  everything  she  had 
to  say  in  comment,  though  I  ought  not  to  forget  her  smile, 
which  was  a  great  deal  of  it.  T  am  sure  I  don't  know  why  I 
speak  of  Miss  Peter  Corke  in  the  past  tense,  however.  She  is 
not  dead — or  even  married ;  I  cannot  imagine  a  greater  misfor- 
tune to  her  large  circle  of  friends  in  London. 

*  Two  lumps,  please,'  begged  Miss  Corke  of  me  in  the 
midst  of  a  succession  of  inquiries  about  Lady  Torquilin's  cough, 
whether  it  could  possibly  be  gout,  or  if  she  had  been  indulging 
in  salmon  and  cucumber  lately,  in  which  case  it  served  her 
perfectly  right.  *  What  a  disappointment  you  are  !  Why  don't 
you  ask  me  if  I  like  it  with  all  the  trimmings  ? ' 

^  The  trimmings  ?  '  I  repeated. 

*  Certainly  !  the  sugar  and  milk  !  Fancy  being  obliged  to 
explain  Americanisms  to  an  American  ! '  said  Miss  Corke  to 
Lady  Torquilin. 

'  Is  trimmings  an  Americanism  ?  '  T  asked.  '  I  never  heard 
it  before.  But  I  dare  say  it  is  an  expression  peculiar  to  Boston, 
perhaps.' 

'  You  had  better  not  have  any  doubt,'  said  Miss  Corke, 
with  mock  ferocity,  '  of  anything  you  hear  in  England.' 

'  I've  heard  fixings  often  at  home,'  I  declared,  '  but  never 
trimmings.* 

'  Oh  ! '  remarked  Miss  Corke,  genially ;  *  then  fixings  is  the 
correct  expression.' 

'  I  don't  know,'  I  said,  '  about  its  being  the  correct  expres- 
sion.    Our  washerwoman  uses  it  a  good  deal.' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  143 

'  Oil !  '  said  Miss  Corke,  with  an  indescribable  inflection  of 
amusement;  and  then  she  looked  at  me  over  the  top  of 
her  teacup,  as  much  as  to  say,  ^you  had  better  not  go  too 
far ! ' 

*  Are  your  father  and  mother  living  ? '  she  asked  ;  and  just 
tlien  I  noticed  that  it  was  twenty  minutes  past  four  by  the 
clock.  I  answered  Miss  Corke  in  the  affirmative,  and  naturally 
I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  ;  but  I  have  often  wondered  since  why 
that  invariable  interest  in  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  a 
person's  parents  should  prevail  in  England  as  it  does,  I  have 
seldom  been  approached  by  any  one  in  a  spirit  of  kindly  curiosity 
with  a  different  formula.  'Any  brothers  and  sisters?'  Miss 
Corke  went  on.  *  When  did  you  come  ?  Where  did  you  go 
first  ?  How  long  do  you  mean  to  stay  ?  What  have  you  seen  ? 
Did  you  expect  us  to  be  as  we  are,  or  do  we  exceed  your  expec- 
tations ?  Have  you  ever  travelled  alone  before  ?  Are  you  quite 
sure  you  like  the  feeling  of  being  absolutely  independent? 
Don't  you  love  our  nice  old  manners  and  customs  ?  and  won't 
you  wish  when  you  get  back  that  you  could  put  your  President 
on  a  golden  throne,  with  an  ermine  robe,  and  a  sceptre  in  his 
right  hand  ? ' 

Miss  Corke  gave  me  space  between  these  questions  for 
brief  answers,  but  by  the  time  I  looked  at  the  clock  again,  and 
saw  that  it  was  twenty -five  minutes  past  four,  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  she  had  asked  me  twelve.  I  liked  it  immensely  — it 
made  conversation  so  easy ;  but  I  could  not  help  thinking,  in 
connection  with  it,  of  the  capacity  for  interrogation,  which  I  had 
always  heard  credited  exclusively  to  Americans. 

*  Peter,'  said  Lady  Torquilin  at  last,  a  little  tired  of  it,  '  ask 
something  about  me  ;  I  haven't  seen  you  for  weeks.' 

*  Dear  lady,'  said  Peter,  '  ol'  course  1  will.    But  this  is  some- 


144  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

thing  new,  you  see,  so  one  takes  an  ephemeral — very  ephemeral ! 
— interest  in  it.' 

Lady  Torquilin  laughed.  *  Well ! '  said  she,  *  there's  nothing 
more  wonderful  than  the  way  it  gets  about  alone.' 

Then  I  laughed  too.  1  did  not  hnd  anything  in  the  least 
objectionable  in  being  called  an  '  it '  by  Miss  Corke. 

'  So  you've  been  in  England  a  whole  month  ! '  said  she. 
'And  what  do  you  think  you  have  observed  about  us?  Basing 
your  opinion,'  said  Miss  Corke,  with  serio-coraicality,  '  upon  the 
fact  that  we  are  for  your  admiration,  and  not  for  your  criticism, 
how  do  you  like  us  ? ' 

I  couldn't  lielp  it.  *  Individually,'  I  said,  '  I  like  ^ on  fairly 
well — as  a  nation,  I  can't ' 

*  Oh ! '  cried  Miss  Corke,  in  a  little  funny  squeal,  rushing  at 
Lady  Torquilin,  'you've  gone  and  told  her — you  wicked 
woman  !' — and  she  shook  Lady  Torquilin,  a  thing  I  didn't  see 
how  she  dared  to  do.  '  I  can't  bear  it,  and  I  won't !  J^rivate 
correspondence — I  wonder  you're  not  ashamed  ! ' — and  Miss 
Corke  sank  into  a  chair,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  her  handkerchief,  and  squealed  again,  more  comically  than 
before.  By  the  time  I  had  been  acquainted  with  Miss  Corke 
a  fortnight  I  had  learned  to  look  for  that  squeal,  and  to  love  it. 
She  probably  will  not  know  until  she  reads  this  chapter  how 
painfully  I  have  tried  to  copy  it,  and  how  vainly,  doubtless 
owing  to  the  American  nature  of  my  larynx.  But  Miss  Corke 
had  a  way  of  railing  at  you  that  made  you  feel  rather  pleased 
that  you  had  misbehaved.  1  could  see  that  it  had  that  effect 
upon  Lady  Torquilin,  though  all  she  did  was  to  smile  broadly, 
and  say  to  Miss  Peter,  '  Hoity-toity  !  Have  another  cup  of  tea.' 

Tn  the  course  of  further  conversation,  Miss  Corke  said  that 
she  saw  my  mind  must  be  improved  immediately   if  she  had  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


145 


do  it  herself;  and  wheje  would  I  like  to  begin.  I  said  almost 
anywhere,  I  didn't  think  it  much  mattered  ;  and  Miss  Corke  said, 
Well,  that  was  candid  on  my  part,  and  augured  favourably,  and 


YOU    WICKED    WOMAN 


was  T  architectu-rurally  inclined  ?  I  said  I  thought  I  was, 
some ;  and  out  came  Miss  Peter  Corke's  little  shriek  again. 
*Tell    her,'  she    said,  prodding  Lady  Torquilin,   'that  we  say 


146  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

"  rather  "  over  here  in  that  connection  ;  I  don't  know  her  well 
enough.'  And  I  was  obliged  to  beg  Lady  Torquilin  to  tell  heft 
that  we  said  *  some '  over  there  in  that  connection,  though  not 
in  books,  or  university  lectures,  or  serious-minded  magazines. 

'  Oh,  come  ! '  said  Miss  Corke,  '  do  you  mean  to  say  youVe 
got  any  serious-minded  magazines  ? ' 

'  I'll  come  anywhere  you  like,'  I  responded.  '  Have  you  got 
any  light-minded  ones  ? ' 

Whereat  Miss  Corke  turned  again  to  Lady  Torquilin,  and 
confided  to  her  that  I  was  a  flippant  young  woman  to  live  in  the 
same  house  with,  and  Lady  Torquilin  assured  her  that  there 
wasn't  really  any  harm  in  me — it  was  only  my  way. 

'  H'm ! '  remarked  Miss  Peter,  perking  up  her  chin  in  a 
manner  that  made  me  long  to  be  on  kissing  terms  with  her —  ^  the 
American  way  ! '  As  I  write  that  it  looks  disagreeable  ;  as  Peter 
Corke  said  it,  it  was  the  very  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  prejudiced 
and  favourable  criticism.  And  I  soon  found  out  that  whatever 
she  might  say,  her  words  never  conveyed  anything  but  herself 
— never  had  any  significance,  I  mean,  that  your  knowledge  of 
her  delightful  nature  did  not  endorse. 

*  I  suppose  we'd  better  begin  with  the  churches,  don't  you 
think  ? '  said  Miss  Corke  to  Lady  Torquilin.  '  Poor  dear !  I 
dare  say  she's  never  seen  a  proper  church ! ' 

'  Oh,  yes !  *  I  said,  '  you  have  never  been  in  Chicago,  Miss 
Corke,  or  you  wouldn't  talk  like  that.  We  have  several  of  the 
finest  in  America  in  our  city ;  and  we  ourselves  attend  a  very 
large  one,  erected  last  year,  the  Congregational — though  momma 
has  taken  up  Theosophy  considerably  lately.  It's  built  in  amphi- 
theatre style,  with  all  the  latest  improvements — electric  light, 
and  heated  with  hot  water  all  through.  It  will  seat  five  thou- 
sand people  on  spring-edged  cushions,  and  has  a  lovely  kitchen 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


147 


attached    for    socials  ! '       '  Built    in    the    amphitheatre    style  ! 
repeated  Miss  Oorke.     '  To  seat  five  thousand  people  on  spring- 


11 
I 


'"REMEMBER,    YOUNG    LADY,    THREE-THIRTY Sharp  ^^ 


148  AN  AMLRJCAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

edged  cushions — with  a  kitchen  attached !     And  now,  will  you 
tell  me  immediately  what  a  "  social "  is  ? ' 

'  There  are  different  kinds,  you  know,'  1  replied.  '  Ice-cream 
socials,  and  oyster  socials,  and  ordinary  tea-meetings  ;  but  they 
nearly  always  have  something  to  eat  in  them — a  dry  social  with 
only  a  collection  never  amounts  to  much.  And  they're  generally 
held  in  the  basement  of  the  church,  and  the  young  ladies  of  the 
congregation  wait.' 

Miss  Corke  looked  at  me,  amused  and  aghast.  *  You  see,  I 
was  quite  right,'  she  said  to  Lady  Torquilin.  ^  She  never  has ! 
But  I  think  this  really  ought  to  be  reported  to  the  Foreign 
Missions  Society  !  I'll  take  you  to  the  Abbey  to-morrow,'  she 
went  on.  '  You  like  "  deaders,"  don't  you  ?  The  time  between 
might  be  profitably  spent  in  fasting  and  meditation  !  Good-bye, 
dear  love  ! ' — to  Lady  Torquilin.  '  No,  you  will  not  come  down, 
either  of  you !  Remember,  young  lady,  three-thirty,  sharp,  at 
the  entrance  everybody  uses,  op]^osite  Dizzy's  statue — the  same 
which  you  are  never  on  any  account  to  call  Dizzy,  but  always 
Lord  Disraeli,  with  the  res]  ect  that  becomes  a  foreigner  !  Good- 
bye V 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


149 


XIV 


HAT  do  you  mean  ? '  asked  Miss 
Corke,  indicating  the  Parlia- 
ment House  clock  with  a  re- 
proachful parasol,  as  I  joined 
her  a  week  from  the  following 
afternoon  outside  the  south 
cloister  of  the  Abbey.  We 
had  seen  a  good  deal  of  her  in 
the  meantime,  but  the  Abbey 
visit  had  been  postponed. 
Her  tone  was  portentous,  and 
I  looked  at  the  clock,  which 
said  ten  minutes  to  four.  I 
didn't  quite  understand,  for  I 
thought  I  was  in  pretty  good 
time.  '  Didn't  you  say  I  was 
to  come  about  now  ?  '  I  inquired.  Miss  Corke  made  an  inar- 
ticulate exclamation  of  wrath. 

'  Half-past  three  may  be  "  about  now  "  in  America ! '  she 
said,  '  but  it  isn't  here,  as  you  may  see  by  the  clock.  Fancy 
my  having  made  an  appointment  with  a  young  person  who  had 
an  idea  of  keeping  it  "  about  "  the  time  I  had  condescended  to 
fix !  ' — and  Miss  Corke  put  down  her  parasol  as  we  entered  the 
cloisters,  and   attempted  to  wither  me  with  a  glance.     If  the 


ISO  ^iN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

glance  had  uot  had  the  very  jolliest  smile  of  good-fellowship 
inside  it  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done,  but  as  it  was 
I  didn't  wither ;  though  I  regretted  to  hear  that  I  had  missed 
the  Jerusalem  Chamber  by  being  late,  where  King  Henry  died 
— because  he  always  knew  he  should  expire  in  a  place  of  that 
name,  and  so  fulfilled  prophecy,  poor  dear,  by  coming  to  kneel 
on  the  cold  stone  at  St.  Edward's  shrine,  where  he  would  always 
say  his  prayers,  and  nowhere  else,  immediately  after  a  number 
of  extraordinary  Christmas  dinners — and  Miss  Corke  was  not  in 
the  least  sorry  for  me,  though  it  was  a  thing  I  ought  to  see, 
and  we  positively  must  come  another  day  to  see  it. 

We  walked  up  past  the  little  green  square  that  you  see  in 
wide  spaces  through  the  side  pillars,  where  the  very  oldest  old 
monks  lie  nameless  and  forgotten,  whose  lives  gathered  about 
the  foundations  of  the  Abbey — the  grey  foundations  in  the  grey 
past— and  sank  silently  into  its  history  just  as  their  bodily 
selves  have  disappeared  long  ago  in  the  mosses  and  grasses 
that  cover  them.  '  No,  Miss  Mamie  Wick,  of  Chicago,  I  will 
not  hurry  ! '  said  Miss  Corke,  '  and  neither  shall  you  !  It  is  a 
sacrilege  that  I  will  allow  no  young  person  in  my  company  to 
commit — to  go  through  these  precincts  as  if  there  were  anything 
in  the  world  as  well  worth  looking  at  outside  of  them.' 

I  said  I  didn't  want  to  hurry  in  the  very  least. 

'  Are  you  sure  you  don't; — inside  of  you  ? '  she  demanded. 
,  Certain  you  have  no  lurking  private  ambition  to  do  the  Abbey 
in  two  hours  and  get  it  over  ?  Oh,  I  know  you  !  I've  brought 
lots  of  you  here  before.' 

'  I  know,'  I  said,  '-  as  a  nation  we  do  like  to  get  a  good  deal 
for  our  time.' 

'It's  promising  when  you  acknowledge  it' — Miss  Corke 
laughed.     '  All  the  old   abbots  used  to  be  buried   here  np  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  151 

the  time  of  Henry  III.  ;  that's  probably  one  of  'em  * — and  Miss 
Corke's  parasol  indicated  a  long,  thick,  bluish  stone  thing  lying 
on  its  back,  with  a  round  lump  at  one  end  and  an  imitation  of 
features  cut  on  the  lump.  It  lay  there  very  solidly  along  the 
wall,  and  I  tried  in  vain  to  get  a  point  of  view  from  which  it 
was  expressive  of  anything  whatever.  '  One  of  the  early 
abbots  ? '  said  I,  because  it  seemed  necessary  to  say  something. 

'  Probably,'  said  Miss  Corke. 

'  Which  particular  abbot  should  you  say  ?  '  I  asked,  deferen- 
tially, for  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  presence  of  something  very 
early  English  indeed,  and  that  it  became  me  to  be  impressed, 
whether  I  was  or  not. 

'  Oh,  I  don't  know,'  Miss  Peter  Corke  replied.  '  Postard, 
perhaps,  or  Crispin,  or  maybe  Vitalis  ;  nobody  knows.' 

'  I  suppose  it  would  have  been  easier  to  tell  a  while  ago,'  I 
said.  'There  is  something  so  worn  about  his  face,  I  should 
think  even  the  other  early  abbots  would  find  a  difficulty  in 
recognising  him  now.     Nothing  Druidical,  I  suppose  ?  ' 

'  Certainly  not.  If  you  are  going  to  be  disrespectful,'  said 
Miss  Corke,  '  I  shall  take  you  home  at  once.'  Whereat  I  pro- 
tested that  I  did  not  dream  disrespect — that  he  looked  to  me 
quite  as  much  like  a  Druid  as  anything  else.  I  even  ventured 
to  say  that,  if  she  had  not  told  me  he  was  an  early  abbot,  I  might 
have  taken  him  for  something  purely  and  entirely  geological. 
The  whole  of  this  discussion  took  place  at  what  stood  for  the 
early  abbot's  feet,  and  occupied  some  little  time ;  so  that,  finally. 
Miss  Corke  was  obliged  to  tell  me  that,  if  there  was  one  thing 
she  couldn't  bear,  it  was  dawdling,  and  would  I  be  pleased  to 
look  at  the  monumental  tablet  to  Mr.  Thomas  Thynne,  of  which 
she  would  relate  to  me  the  history.  So  we  paused  in  front  of 
it,  while  Miss  Corke  told  me  how  the  gentleman  in  the  bas- 
il 


152  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

relief  chariot  was  Mr.  Thomas  Thynne,  and  the  gentlemaa  on 
horseback,  shooting  at  him  with  a  blunderbuss,  was  Konigsmark, 
accompanied  by  his  brother ;  and  Konigsmark  was  in  the  act  of 
killing  Mr.  Thomas  Thynne,  with  the  horses  getting  unmanage- 
able, and  the  two  powdered  footmen  behind  in  a  state  of  great 
agitation,  because  both  Mr.  Thomas  Thynne  and  Konigsmark 
were  attached  to  the  same  lady — a  young  widow  lady  with  a 
great  deal  of  money — and  she  liked  Mr.  Thomas  Thynne  best, 
which  was  more  than  Mr.  Konigsmark  could  bear.  So  Mr. 
Konigsmark  first  swore  properly  that  he  would  do  it,  and  then 
did  it — all  in  Pall  Mall,  when  Mr.  Thomas  was  in  the  very  act 
of  driving  home  from  paying  a  visit  to  the  widow.  It  was  a 
most  affecting  story,  as  Peter  Corke  told  it,  especially  in  the 
presence  of  the  memorial  with  a  white  marble  Cupid  pointing  to 
it,  erected  by  Mr.  Thynne's  bereaved  relatives ;  and  I  was  glad 
to  hear  that  the  widow  had  nothing  to  do  with  Mr.  Konigsmark 
afterwards,  in  spite  of  the  simplicity  and  skill  of  his  tactics  with 
regard  to  his  rival.  I  thought  the  history  of  the  event  quite  in- 
teresting enough  in  itself,  but  Miss  Corke  insisted  that  the  point 
about  it  really  worthy  of  attention  was  the  fact  that  the  younger 
Mr.  Konigsmark  was  the  gentleman  who  afterwards  went  back 
to  Hanover,  and  there  flirted  so  disgracefully  with  Sophia 
Dorothea  of  Zell  that  King  George  said  he  wouldn't  have  it, 
and  shut  her  up  in  Ahlden  Tower  for  thirty-two  years.  Miss 
Corke  explained  it  all  in  a  delightful  kindergarten  way, 
mentioning  volumes  for  my  reference  if  I  wanted  to  know  more 
about  the  incident.  '  Although  this,'  she  said,  '  is  the  sort  of 
thing  you  ought  to  have  been  improving  your  mind  with  ever 
since  you  learned  to  read.  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  it, 
coming  over  here  with  a  vast  unbroken  field  of  ignorance  about 
our  celebrities.    Do  you  think  time  began  in  ]  776  ? '     At  which 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  153 

I  retaliated,  and  said  that  far  from  being  an  improving  incident, 
I  wasn't  sure  that  it  was  altogether  respectable,  and  I  didn't 
know  of  a  single  church  in  Chicago  that  would  admit  a  bas- 
relief  of  it,  with  or  without  a  mourning  Cupid.  In  return  to 
which  Miss  Corkd  could  find  nothing  better  to  say  than  '  Lawks ! ' 
'  Don't  tell  me  youVe  read  the  "  Spectator  !  "  '  she  remarked 
a  little  farther  on,  '  because  I  know  you  haven't — you've  read 
nothing  but  W.  D.  Howells  and  the  "New  York  World!" 
Oh,  you  have  ?  Several  essays  !  When,  pray  ?  At  school — 
I  thought  so !  When  you  couldn't  help  it !  Well,  I  know 
you've  forgotten  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  in  the  Abbey,  stopping 
Addison  here,  to  tell  him  that  man  thrashed  his  grandfather! 
His  own  grandfather,  you  know,  not  Addison's!'  And  we 
contemplated  the  studious  effigy  of  Dr.  Busby  until  I  told 
Miss  Corke  that  I  wanted  to  be  taken  to  the  Poets'  Corner. 
'  Of  course  you  do,'  said  she  ;  '  there  are  rows  of  Americans  there 
now,  sitting  looking  mournful  and  thinking  up  quotations.  If 
I  wanted  to  find  an  American  in  London,  I  should  take  up  my 
position  in  the  Poets'  Corner  until  he  arrived.  You  needn't 
apologise — it's  nothing  to  your  discredit,'  remarked  Miss  Corke, 
as  we  turned  in  among  your  wonderful  crumbling  old  names 
past  the  bust  of  George  Grote,  historian  of  Greece.  '  Of  course 
you  have  heard  of  his  lady-wife,'  she  said,  nodding  at  Mr.  Grote 
I  ventured  the  statement  that  she  was  a  very  remarkable  person 
*  Well,  she  was !  '  returned  Miss  Corke,  '  though  that's  a  shot 
in  the  dark,  and  you  might  as  well  confess  it.  One  of  ihe  most 
remarkable  women  of  her  time.  All  the  biographers  of  the  day 
wrote  about  her — as  you  ought  to  know,  intimately.  I  have 
the  honour  of  the  acquaintance  of  a  niece  of  hers,  who  told  me 
the  other  day  that  she  wasn't  particularly  fond  of  her.  Great 
independence  of  character ! '  ^ 


154  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  Where  is  Chaucer?'  I  asked,  wishing  to  begin  at  the 
beginning. 

'  Just  like  every  one  of  you  that  I've  ever  brought  here ! ' 
Miss  Cork©  eixclaimed,  leading  the  way  to  the  curious  old 
rectangular  grey  tomb  in  the  wall.  '  The  very  best — ^the  very 
oldest — immediately !  Such  impatience  I  never  saw  !  There 
now — make  out  that  early  English  lettering,  if  you  can,  and  be 
properly  sorry  that  you've  renounced  your  claim  to  be  proud 
of  it ! ' 

'  I  can't  make  it  out,  so  I'll  think  about  being  sorry  later,'  I 
said.  *  It  is  certainly  very  remarkable  ;  he  might  almost  have 
written  it  himself     Now,  where  is  Shakespeare  ?  ' 

'  Oh,  certainly  ! '  exclaimed  Miss  Corke.  '  This  way.  And 
after  that  you'll  declare  you've  seen  them  all.  But  you  might 
just  take  time  to  understand  that  you're  walking  over  "  0  rare 
Ben  Jonson !  "  who  is  standing  up  in  his  old  bones  down  there 
as  straight  as  you  or  I.  Insisted — as  you  probably  are  not 
aware — on  being  buried  that  way,  so  as  to  be  ready  when 
Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet  in  the  morning.  I  won't  say  that 
he  hasn't  got  his  coat  and  hat  on.  Yes,  that's  Samuel — 
I'm  glad  you  didn't  say  Ben  was  the  lexicographer.  Milton 
— certainly — it's  kind  of  you  to  notice  him.  Blind,  you  re- 
member. The  author  of  several  works  of  some  reputation — in 
England.' 

'  I  knew  he  was  blind,*  I  said,  '  and  used  to  dictate  to  his 
daughters.  We  have  a  picture  of  it  at  home.'  I  made  this 
remark  very  innocently,  and  Miss  Corke  looked  at  me  with  a 
comical  smile.  '  Bless  it  and  save  it ! '  she  said,  and  then,  with 
an  attempt  at  a  reproach,  '  What  a  humbug  it  is  ! ' 

We  looked  at  Shakespeare,  supreme  among  them,  predicting 
solemn  dissolution  out  of  '  The  Tempest,'  and  turned  from  him 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


155 


.^^^ 


WE    LOOKED   AT    SHAKESPEARE, 
SUPREME   AMONG   THEM  ' 


156 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


to  Gay,  whose  final  reckless  word  I  read  with  as  much  astonish- 
ment as  if  I  had  never  heard  of  it  before. 

•  Life's  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it ; 
I  thought  so  once,  ^nd  now  I  know  it, 

has  no  significance  at  all  read  in  an  American  school-book  two 
thousand  miles,  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  from  the  writer 


^..--^ 


I.L- 


U 


'  "  life's  a  jest,  and  all  things 

SHOW   IT  ; 
I   THOUGHT    SO    ONCE,    AND     NOW    I 
KNOW   IT  "  ' 

You  see  our   Presidents  differ 


of  it,  compared  with  the  grim 
shock  it  gives  you  when  you 
see  it  actually  cut  deep  in  the 
stone,  to  be  a  memorial  always 
of  a  dead  man  somewhere  not 
far  away. 

'That  you  should  have 
heard  of  Nicholas  Rowe,'  said 
Miss  Corke,  '  is  altogether  too 
much  to  expect.  Dear  me  ! 
it  would  be  considerably  easier 
to  improve  your  mind  if  it  had 
ever  been  tried  before.  But 
he  was  poet-laureate  for  George 
the  First — you  understand  the 
term  ? ' 

'  I  think  so,'  I  said.  '  They 
contract  to  supply  the  Royal 
Family  with  poetry,  by  the 
year,  at  a  salary.  We  have 
nothing  of  the  kind  in  America, 
so.     They   might   not  all  like 


poetry.     And  in  that  case  it  would  be  wasted,  for  there  isn't  a 
magazine  in  the  country  that  would  take  it  second-hand.' 

'  Besides  having  no  poets  who  could  do  it  properly,  poor 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  157 

things  ! '  said  Miss  Corke — to  which  I  acceded  without  difficulty. 
'  Well,  Mr.  Rowe  was  a  poet-laureate,  though  that  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  it.  But  he  had  a  great  friend  in  Mr.  Pope 
— Pope,  you  know  him — by  reputation — and  when  he  and  his 
daughter  died,  Mr.  Pope  and  Mrs.  Rowe  felt  so  bad  about  it 
that  he  wrote  those  mournful  lines,  and  she  had  'em  put  up. 
Now  listen ! — 

To  those  so  mourned  in  death,  so  lov'd  in  life. 
The  childless  parent  and  the  widowed  wife — 

meaning  the  same  lady ;  it  was  only  a  neat  way  they  had  of 
doubling  up  a  sentiment  in  those  days  ! — 

With  tears  inscribes  this  monumental  sfone, 
That  holds  their  ashes  and  expects  her  own  I 

and  everybody,  including  Mr.  Pope,  thought  it  perfectly  sweet 
at  the  time.  Then  what  does  this  degenerate  widow  do,  after 
giving  Mr.  Pope  every  reason  to  believe  that  she  would  fulfil 
his  poetry  ? ' 

'  She  marries  again,'  I  said. 

'  Quite  right ;  she  mariies  again.  But  you  needn't  try  to 
impose  upon  me,  miss  !  To  come  to  that  conclusion  you  didn't 
require  any  previous  information  whatever!  She  marries  again, 
and  you  can't  think  how  it  vexed  Mr.  Pope.* 

'  I  know,'  I  said,  '  he  declared  that  was  the  last  of  his  lend- 
ing the  use  of  his  genius  to  widows  ' — for  I  had  to  assume  some 
knowledge  of  the  subject. 

Miss  Corke  looked  at  me.  '  You  idjit ! '  she  said.  *  He  did 
nothing  of  the  sort.' 

'  Michael  Drayton ! '  I  read  amongst  other  names  which 
surprised  me  by  their  unfamiliarity ;  for  in  America,  whatever 
Peter  Corke  may  say,  if  we  have  a  strong  point,  it  is  names — 


158  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

'  who  was  Michael  Drayton  ?   and  why  was  he  entitled  to  a 
bust  ? ' 

*  He  wrote  the  *'  Polyolbion," '  said  Miss  Corke,  as  if  that 
were  all  there  was  to  say  about  it. 

'  Do  you  know,'  I  said — '  I  am  ashamed  to  confess  it, 
but  even  of  so  well-known  and  interesting  a  work  of  genius 
as  the  "  Polyolbion "  I  have  committed  very  few  pages  to 
memory  ! ' 

'  Oh ! '  returned  Miss  Peter,  '  you're  getting  unbearable  ! 
There's  a  lovely  epitaph  for  you,  of  Edmund  Spenser's,  "  whose 
divine  spirrit  needs  noe  othir  witnesse  than  the  workes  which 
he  left  behind  him."  You  will  kindly  make  no  ribald  remarks 
about  the  spelling,  as  I  perceive  you  are  thinking  of  doing. 
Try  and  remember  that  we  taught  you  to  spell  over  there. 
And  when  Edmund  Spenser  was  buried,  dear  damsel,  there 
came  a  company  of  poets  to  the  funeral — Shakespeare,  doubt- 
less, among  them — and  cast  into  his  grave  all  manner  of 
elegies.' 

*  Of  their  own  composition  ? '  I  inquired. 

^  Stupid  ! — certainly  !     And  the  pens  that  wrote  them ! ' 
I  said  I  thought  it  a  most  beautiful  and  poetic  thing  to  have 
done,  if  they  kept  no  copies  of  the  poems,  and  asked  Miss 
Corke  if  she  believed  anything  of  the  kind  would  be  possible 
now. 

*  Bless  you ! '  she  replied.  '  In  the  first  place,  there  aren't 
the  poets ;  in  the  second  place,  there  isn't  the  hero-worship ; 
in  the  third  place,  the  conditions  of  the  poetry-market  are  dif- 
ferent nowadays — it's  more  expensive  than  it  used  to  be ;  the 
poets  would  prefer  to  send  wreaths  from  the  florist's — you  can 
get  quite  a  nice  one  for  twelve-and-six ; '  and  Peter  Corke  made 
a  little  grimace  expressive  of  disgust  with  the  times.     '  We 


AN  AMERICAN  GinL  tN   LONDON  159 

used  to  have  all  poets  and  no  public,  now  we  have  all  public 
and  no  poets ! '  she  declared,  '  now  that  he  is  gone — and 
Tennyson  can't  live  for  ever.'  Miss  Corke  pointed  with  her 
parasol  to  a  name  in  the  stone  close  to  my  right  foot.  I  had 
been  looking  about  me,  and  above  me,  and  everywhere  but 
there.  As  I  read  it  I  took  my  foot  away  quickly,  and  went 
two  or  three  paces  off.  It  was  so  unlooked-for,  that  name,  so 
new  to  its  association  with  death,  that  I  stood  aside,  held  by  a 
sudden  sense  of  intrusion.  He  had  always  been  so  high  and  so 
far  off  in  the  privacy  of  his  genius,  so  revered  in  his  solitudes, 
so  unapproachable,  that  it  took  one's  breath  away  for  the 
moment  to  have  walked  unthinkingly  over  the  grave  of  Robert 
Browning.  It  seemed  like  taking  an  advantage  one  would 
rather  not  have  taken — even  to  stand  aside  and  read  the  plain, 
strong  name  in  the  floor,  and  know  that  he,  having  done  with 
life,  had  been  brought  there,  and  left  where  there  could  be  no 
longer  about  him  any  wonderings  or  any  surmises.  Miss  Corke 
told  me  that  she  knew  him,  *  as  one  can  say  one  knows  such  a 
man,'  and  how  kindly  his  interest  was  in  all  that  the  ordinary 
people  of  his  acquaintance  like  herself  were  thinking  and  doing ; 
but  the  little,  homely  stories  she  related  to  me  from  her  personal 
knowledge  of  him  seemed  curiously  without  relevance  then. 
Nothing  mattered,  except  that  he  who  had  epitomised  greatness 
in  his  art  for  the  century  lay  there  beneath  his  name  in  the 
place  of  greatness.  And  then,  immediately,  from  this  grave  of 
yesterday,  there  came  to  me  light  and  definition  for  all  the 
graves  of  the  day  before.  It  stole  among  the  quaint  lettering 
of  the  inscriptions,  and  into  the  dusty  corners  of  the  bas-reliefs, 
and  behind  all  the  sculptured  scrolls  and  laurels,  and  showed 
me  what  I  had  somehow  missed  seeing  sooner — all  that  shrined 
honour  means  in  England;  and  just  in  that  one  little  corner 


i6o  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

how  great  her  possessions  are!  Miss  Corke  said  something 
about  the  royal  tombs  and  the  coronation  chair,  and  the  wax 
effigies  in  the  chamber  above  the  Islip  Chapel,  and  getting  on ; 
but,  '  if  you  don't  mind,'  I  said,  '  I  should  like  to  sit  down  here 
for  a  while  with  the  other  Americans  and  think.' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


i6i 


XV 


r  is  said  that  there  are  four  hundred 
people  in  New  York  who  are  exclusive, 
and  there  are  a  few  more  on 
Beacon  Hill  in  Boston,  and  in 
Philadelphia.  But  most  Ameri- 
cans are  opposed  to  exclusiveness. 
I  know  that  nothing  of  the  sort 
flourishes  in  Chicago.  Generally 
and  individually,  Americans  be- 
lieve that  every  man  is  as  good  as 
his  neighbour ;  and  we  take  pains  to  proclaim  our  belief  when- 
ever the  subject  of  class  distinction  is  under  discussion. 
Poppa's  views,  however — representing  those  of  the  majority  in 
an  individual,  as  we  hope  they  soon  may  do  in  a  senator — are 
strongly  against  any  theory  of  exclusiveness  whatever.  And  I 
will  say  for  poppa,  that  his  principles  are  carried  out  in  his 
practice ;  for,  to  my  knowledge,  neither  his  retirement  from  busi- 
ness and  purchase  of  a  suburban  lakeside  residence,  nor  even 
his  nomination  for  the  Senate,  has  made  the  slightest  difference 
in  his  treatment  of  any  human  being.  And  yet  Americans 
coming  over  here  with  all  their  social  theories  in  their  trunks, 
so  to  speak,  very  carefully  packed  to  be  ready  at  a  moment's 
notice,  very  seldom  seem  to  find  a  use  for  them  in  ^England.  I 
was  brought  up,  you  might  say,  on  poppa's,  and  momma  agreed 


c62  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

with  him  on  most  points,  with  the  one  qualification  that,  if  you 
couldn't  have  nice  society,  it  was  much  better  to  go  without 
any — ^  Scarce  company,  welcome  trumpery ! '  momma  always 
declared  would  never  be  her  motto.  Yet  since  I  have  been  in 
England  I  have  hardly  had  occasion  to  refer  to  them  at  all.  I 
listened  to  an  American  author  about  it  a  while  ago,  before  1 
had  any  intention  of  writing  my  own  English  experiences,  and 
he  said  the  reason  Americans  liked  the  exclusiveness  over  here 
was  because  its  operation  gave  them  such  perfect  types  to  study, 
each  ol"  its  own  little  circle ;  while  at  home  we  are  a  great  inde- 
terminate, shifting  mass,  and  a  person  who  wanted  to  know  us  as 
a  nation  must  know  us  very  largely  as  individuals  first.  I  thought 
that  might  be  a  very  good  reason  for  an  author,  especially  for 
an  author  who  liked  an  occasional  cup  of  tea  with  a  duchess ; 
but  I  was  not  sure  that  it  could  be  claimed  by  a  person  like 
myself,  only  over  on  a  visit,  and  not  for  any  special  purpose  of 
biological  research.  So  I  went  on  liking  the  way  you  shut 
some  people  out  and  let  other  people  in,  without  inquiring 
further  as  to  why  I  did — it  did  not  seem  profitable,  especially 
when  I  reflected  that  my  point  of  view  was  generally  from  the 
inside.  My  democratic  principles  are  just  the  same  as  ever, 
though — a  person  needn't  always  approve  what  she  likes.  I 
shall  take  them  back  quite  unimpaired  to  a  country  where  they 
are  indispensable — where  you  really  want  them,  if  you  are  going 
to  be  comfortable,  every  day  of  your  life. 

Nevertheless,  I  know  it  was  the  *  private '  part  of  the 
'  Private  View  '  that  made  me  so  anxious  to  go  to  the  Academy 
on  the  first  day  of  May  this  year.  The  pictures  would  be  there 
the  second  day,  and  the  day  following,  and  days  indefinitely 
after  that,  and  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  I  could  choose  my  own 
time  and  circumstances  of  going  to  see  them.     I  might,  weather 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  163 

permitting,  have  taken  my  '  view '  of  the  Academy  in  the  pub- 
licity of  five  or  six  other  people  who,  like  me,  would  have  paid 
a  shilling  a-piece  to  get  in ;  but  I  found  myself  preferring  the 
privacy  of  the  five  or  six  hundred  who  did  not  pay — preferring 
it  immensely.  Besides,  I  had  heard  all  my  life  of  the  '  Private 
View.'  Every  year  there  are  special  cablegrams  about  it  in  our 
newspapers — who  were  there,  and  what  they  wore — generally 
to  the  extent  of  at  least  a  column  and  a  half  Our  special  cor- 
respondents in  London  glory  in  it,  and  rival  each  other,  adjec- 
tivally, in  describing  it.  Lady  Torquilin  had  been  talking  about 
it  a  good  deal,  too.  She  said  it  was  '  a  thing  to  see,'  and  she 
meant  to  try  to  get  me  an  invitation.  Lady  Torquilin  went 
every  year. 

But  when  the  thirtieth  day  of  April  came,  Lady  Torquilin 
told  me  in  the  evening,  after  dinner,  that  she  hadn't  been  able  to 
manage  it,  and  showed  me  the  card  upon  which  the  '  President 
and  Members  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts  "  requested  "  the 
pleasure  of  the  company  of  Lady  Torquilin,'  only,  '•  Not  trans- 
ferable.' 

'  It's  very  tiresome  of  them,'  said  Lady  Torquilin,  'to  put 
that  on.  It  means  that  you  positively  must  not  give  it  to  any- 
body. Otherwise  I  would  have  handed  it  over  to  you,  child, 
with  the  greatest  pleasure — I  don't  care  a  pin's  point  about 
going,  and  you  could  have  gone  with  the  Pastelle-Browns.  Bui 
there  it  is  ! ' 

Of  course,  nothing  would  have  induced  me  to  take  Lady 
Torquilin's  invitation,  and  deprive  her  of  the  pleasure  of  going; 
but  I  pinned  her  veil  at  the  back,  and  saw  her  off  down  the 
elevator,  next  day  at  two,  with  an  intensity  of  regret  which 
cannot  come  often  in  the  course  of  an  ordinary  lifetime.  I  was 
describing  my  feelings  in  a  letter,  addressed,  I  think,  to  Mr. 


OUB  SPECIAL   CORRESPONDENTS   GLORY   IN   IT 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  165 

Winterhazel,  when,  about  an  hour  later,  Lady  Torquilin  appeared 
again,  flushed  with  exertion,  and  sank  panting  into  a  chair. 
*  Get  ready,  child  ! '  said  she.  '  I'd  wear  your  tailor-made  ;  those 
stairs  will  kill  me,  but  there  was— no  time — to  waste  on  the 
lift.     I  can  get  you  in — hurry  up  your  cakes  ! ' 

'  But  am  I  invited  ? '  I  asked. 

*  Certainly  you  are — by  a  Royal  Academician  in  person — so 

%/' 

I  flew,  and  in  twenty  minutes  Lady  Torquilin  and  I  were 
engaged  in  our  usual  altercation  with  a  cabman  on  the  way  to 
Burlington  House.  When  he  had  got  his  cab  and  animal  well 
into  a  block  in  Bond  Street,  and  nothing  of  any  sort  could 
possibly  happen  without  the  sanction  of  a  Jove-like  policeman  at 
the  crossing,  Lady  Torquilin  took  the  opportunity  of  telling  me 
how  it  was  that  she  was  able  to  come  for  me.  '  You  see,'  she 
said,  '  the  very  first  person  1  had  the  good  luck  to  meet  when  I 
went  in  was  Sir  Bellamy  Bellamy — you  remember  Sir  Bellamy 
Bellamy  at  the  Mintherringtons  ?  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I 
wouldn't  have  mentioned  it,  my  dear,  unless  he  had  first,  though 
I  knew  perfectly  well  that  what  Sir  Bellamy  Bellamy  can't  do 
in  that  Academy  simply  can't  be  done,  for  you  know  I'm  the 
last  one  to  fush ;  but  he  did.  "  Where  is  your  young  friend  ? ' 
said  he.  Then  I  took  my  chance,  and  told  him  how  I'd  asked 
that  old  screw  of  a  Monkhouse  Diddlington  for  two,  and  only  got 
one,  and  how  I  couldn't  possibly  give  it  to  you  because  it  was 
printed  "  Not  transferable,"  and  how  disappointed  you  were ; 
and  he  was  nice  about  it.  "  My  dear  Lady  Torquilin,"  he  said, 
*'  we  were  children  together,  and  you  never  came  to  me.  I 
should  have  been  delighted ! " 

'  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  Sir  Bellamy,  can't  we  do  anything  about 
it  now  ?  "     "  It's  rather  late  in  the  day,"  said  he.     "  It  is  late  in 


i66  AN  AMERJCAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

the  day,"  said  I.  "  Oh,  I  say !  "  said  he,  "  she  must  come  if  she 
wants  to — any  friend  of  yours.  Lady  Torquilin  " — such  a  hum- 
bug as  the  man  is  !  "  It's  a  bit  irregular,"  he  went  on,  "  and 
we  won't  say  anything  about  it,  but  if  you  like  to  go  and  get 
her,  and  see  that  she  carries  this  in  with  her  "  (here  Lady  Tor- 
quilin produced  a  fat,  pale-blue  catalogue  book),  "  there  won't 
be  any  difficulty.  I  fancy."  So  there  you  are,  Miss  Wick,  pro- 
vided with  Sir  Bellamy  Bellamy's  own  catalogue  to  admit  you 
— if  ihaHs  not  a  compliment,  I  don't  know  what  is ! ' 

'  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  had  been  properly  invited,'  I  said ;  '  I'm 
afraid  I  oughtn't  to  go,  Lady  Torquilin.' 

*  Rubbish,  child  ! '  said  she.  *  Do  you  want  them  to  send  a 
deputation  for  you  ?  '     And  after  that,  what  could  I  say  ? 

'  Hold  up  your  head,  and  look  perfectly  indifferent,'  advised 
Lady  Torquilin,  as  our  hansom  deposited  us  in  the  courtyard 
before  the  outer  steps.  '  Don't  grasp  that  catalogue  as  if  it 
were  a  banner ;  carry  it  carelessly.  Now  follow  me.'  And 
Lady  Torquilin,  with  great  dignity,  a  sense  of  rectitude,  and  a 
catalogue  to  which  she  was  properly  entitled,  followed  by  me 
with  vague  apprehensions,  a  bad  con&cience,  and  a  catalogue 
that  didn't  belong  to  me,  walked  into  the  Private  View.  Nobody 
said  anything,  though  I  fancied  one  of  the  two  old  gentlemen 
in  crimson  and  black  by  the  door  looked  knowingly  at  the  other 
when  I  passed,  as  much  as  to  say  :  '  About  that  tailor-made 
there  is  something  fraudulent.'  I  say  I  ^  fancied,'  though  at 
the  time  I  was  certain  they  did,  because  my  imagination,  of 
course,  may  have  had  something  to  do  with  it.  I  know  I  was  very 
glad  of  the  shelter  of  Lady  Torquilin's  unimpeachable  respecta- 
bility in  front.  '  There  now,'  she  said,  when  we  were  well  into 
the  crowd,  '  we're  both  here,  and  it's  much  nicer,  isn't  it,  dear  ? 
than  for  you  to  come  with  strangers,  even  if  I  could  have  made 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  167 

ap  my  mind  that  it  was  right  for  you  to  be  admitted  on  a  ticket 
plainly  marked  "  not  transferable  " — which  I  really  don't  think, 
dear.  I  should  have  been  able  to  do.' 

We  moved  aimlessly  with  the  throng,  and  were  immediately 
overtaken  and  possessed  by  the  spirit  that  seemed  to  be  abroad 
— a  spirit  of  wonder  and  criticism  and  speculation  and  searching, 
that  first  embraced  our  nearest  neighbours,  went  off  at  random 
to  a  curiously-dressed  person  in  perspective,  focussed  upon  a 
celebrity  in  a  corner,  and  spent  itself  in  the  shifting  crowd. 
Lady  Torquilin  bade  me  consider  whether  in  all  my  life  before 
I  had  ever  seen  such  remarkable  gowns,  and  I  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess that  I  had  not.  Some  of  them  were  beautiful,  and  some  were* 
not ;  many  were  what  you  so  very  properly  and  aptly  call '  smart,' 
and  a  few  were  artistic.  All  of  them,  pretty  and  ugly,  I  might 
have  encountered  at  home,  but  there  was  one  species  of  '  frock  ' 
which  no  American,  I  think,  could  achieve  with  impunity.  It 
was  a  protest  against  conventionalism,  very  much  gathered,  and 
usually  presented  itself  in  colours  unattainable  out  of  a  London 
fog.  It  almost  always  went  with  a  rather  discouraged-looking 
lady  having  a  bad  complexion,  and  hair  badly  done  up ;  and, 
invariably,  it  dragu^ed  a  little  on  one  side.  I  don't  know  exactly 
why  that  kind  of  dress  would  be  an  impossible  adjunct  to  the 
person  of  an  American  woman,  but  I  am  disposed  to  believe 
there  is  a  climatic  reason.  We  have  so  much  sun  and  oxygen 
in  the  United  States  that  I  think  they  get  into  our  ideas  of 
clothes  ;  and  a  person  upholstered  in  the  way  I  have  mentioned 
would  very  likely  find  herself  specially  and  disrespectfully 
described  in  the  newspapers.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  be  thought 
impertinent  about  the  development  of  this  particular  English 
dress  ideal.  It  has  undoubted  points  of  interest.  I  had  a  better 
opportunity  of  observing  it  at  the  Academy  Soiree  in  June,  when 
12 


i68  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

it  shed  abroad  the  suggestion  of  a  Tennysonian  idyll  left  out  all 
night. 

Lady  Torquilin  had  just  pointed  out  to  me  two  duchesses  : 
one  large  and  round,  who  was  certainly  a  duchess  by  mistake, 
and  the  other  tall  and  beautiful,  with  just  such  a  curved  upper 
lip  as  a  duchess  ought  to  have,  and  a  coi;t)net  easily  imaginable 
under  her  bonnet,  and  we  were  talking  about  them,  when  I  saw 
somebody  I  knew.  He  was  a  middle-aged  gentleman,  and  I  had 
a  very  interesting  association  with  his  face,  though  I  couldn't 
for  the  moment  remember  his  name  or  where  I  had  met  him. 
I  told  Lady  Torquilin  about  it,  with  the  excited  eagerness  that 
a  person  always  feels  at  the.  sight  of  a  familiar  face  in  a  foreign 
land.  '  Some  friend  of  poppa's,  I  am  certain,'  I  said  ;  and 
although  I  had  only  had  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  immediately 
lost  him  in  the  crowd,  we  decided  to  walk  on  in  that  direction 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  him  again.  He  reappeared  at  a  distance, 
and  again  we  lost  him  ;  but  we  kept  on,  and  while  Lady  Torquilin 
stopped  to  chat  with  her  numerous  acquaintances  I  looked  out 
carefully  for  my  father's  friend.  I  knew  that  as  soon  as  he  saw 
me  he  would  probably  come  up  at  once  and  shake  hands,  and 
then  the  name  would  come  back  to  me  ;  and  I  yearned  to  ask  a 
thousand  things  of  Chicago.  We  came  face  to  face  with  him 
unexpectedly,  and  as  his  eye  caught  mine  carelessly  it  dawned 
upon  me  that  the  last  time  I  had  seen  him  it  was  not  in  a  long 
grey  overcoat  and  a  silk  hat — there  was  something  incongruous 
in  that.  Also,  I  remembered  an  insolent  grizzled  chin  and 
great  duplicity.  *  Oh  ! '  I  said  to  Lady  Torquilin,  '  I  don't  know 
him  at  all !     It's ' 

*  It's  Mr.  Bancroft ! '  said  Lady  Torquilin. 

'  Who  is  Mr.  Bancroft  ? '  said  I.     '  It's  the  Abbe  Latour ! ' 

I  had  enjoyed  '  The  Dead  Heart  *  so  much  a  fortnight  before, 
but  I  was  glad  I  did  not  bow  before  I  recognised  that  it  was  a 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  169 

gentleman  with  whom  I  had  the  honour  of  possessing  only  ten- 
and-sixpence  worth  of  acquaintance. 

I  saw  the  various  scandals  of  the  year  as  well.  Lady 
Torquilin  mentioned  them,  just  to  call  my  attention  to  their 
dresses,  generally  giving  her  opinion  that  there  had  been 
altogether  too  much  said  about  the  matter.  Lady  Torquilin 
did  not  know  many  of  the  literary  people  who  were  present, 
but  she  indicated  Mr.  Anstey  and  Mr.  William  Black,  whose 
works  are  extremely  popular  with  us,  and  it  was  a  particular 
pleasure  to  be  able  to  describe  them  when  I  wrote  home  next 
day.  I  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde  very  especially,  but 
somebody  told  Lady  Torquilin  he  was  at  the  Grosvenor — '  and 
small  loss,  I  consider ! '  said  she ;  '  he's  just  like  any  other  man, 
dear  child,  only  with  more  nonsense  in  his  head  than  most  of 
them !  *  But  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  or  people 
that  Lady  Torquilin  should  like  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde.  Before  we 
went  she  showed  me  two  or  three  lady-journalists  busy  taking 
notes. 

*  There's  that  nice  Miss  Jay  Penne,'  said  Lady  Torquilin. 
'  I  know  all  the  Jay  Pennes — such  a  literary  family  !  And  Miss 
Jay  Penne  always  wants  to  know  what  I've  got  on.  I  think  I 
must  just  speak  to  her,  dear,  if  you  don't  mind  waiting  one 
moment ;   and  then  we'll  go. 

'  She  asked  about  you,  too,  dear,'  said  my  friend  when  she 
rejoined  me,  with  a  little  nudge  of  congratulation. 

I  should,  perhaps,  have  stated  before  that  there  were  a  number 
of  artists  walking  around  trying  to  keep  away  from  their  own 
pictures ;  but  this  I  gathered  of  myself,  for,  with  the  exception 
of  Sir  Bellamy  Bellamy,  who  had  gone  away.  Lady  Torquilin 
did  not  know  any  of  them.  I  noticed,  too,  that  the  walls  of  the 
rooms  we  were  in  were  covered  with  pictures,  but  they  did  not 
seem  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  Private  View. 


I70 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XVI 


ADY  POWDERBY'S  ball 
was  the  first  I  attended  in 
London,  and  therefore,  I 
suppose,  made  the  strongest 
impression  upon  me.  It 
was  quite  different  from  a  Chicago  ball,  though  the  differences 
were  so  intangible — not  consisting  at  all  in  the  supper,  or  the 
music,  or   the  dresses,  or  the  decorations — that  I  am  by  no 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  171 

means  sure  that  I  can  explain  them  ;  so  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
be  disappointed  if  you  fail  to  learn  from  my  idea  of  a  London 
ball  what  a  Chicago  ball  is  like.  It  is  very  easy  for  you  to  find 
out  personally,  if  you  happen  to  be  in  Chicago. 

We  went  in  a  four-wheeler  at  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  as 
the  driver  drew  up  before  the  strip  of  carpet  that  led  to  the 
door,  the  first  thing  that  struck  me  was  the  little  crowd  of  people 
standing  waiting  on  either  side  to  watch  the  guests  go  in.  I 
never  saw  that  in  Chicago — that  patience  and  self-abnegation. 
I  don't  think  the  freeborn  American  citizen  would  find  it  con- 
sistent with  his  dignity  to  hang  about  the  portals  of  a  party  to 
which  he  had  not  been  invited.  He  would  take  pains,  on  the 
contrary,  to  shun  all  appearance  of  wanting  to  go. 

Inside  I  expected  to  find  a  crowd — I  think  balls  are  gene- 
rally crowded  wherever  they  are  given  ;  but  I  also  expected  to 
be  able  to  get  through  it,  in  which  for  quite  twenty  minutes  I 
was  disappointed.  Both  Lady  Torquilin  and  I  made  up  our 
minds,  at  one  time,  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  in  our 
wraps ;  but  just  as  we  had  abandoned  ourselves  to  this  there 
came  a  breaking  and  a  parting  among  the  people,  and  a  surge 
in  one  direction,  which  Lady  Torquilin  explained,  as  we  took 
advantage  of  it,  by  the  statement  that  the  supper-room  had 
been  opened. 

In  the  cloak-room  several  ladies  were  already  preparing  for 
departure.  '  Do  you  suppose  they  are  ill  ? '  I  asked  Lady 
Torquilin,  as  we  stood  together,  while  two  of  the  maids  repaired 
our  damages  as  far  as  they  were  able.  '  Why  do  they  go  home 
so  early  ? ' 

'  Homej  child !  '  said  Lady  Torquilin,  with  a  withering 
emphasis.  '  They're  going  on ;  I  daresay  they've  got  a  couple 
more  dances  a-piece  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  to  night.'   Lady 


172  AN  AMERICAN-  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Torquilin  did  not  approve  of  what  she  called  ^  excessive  riot,' 
and  never  accepted  more  than  one  invitation  an  evening ;  so  I 
was  unfamiliar  with  London  ways  in  this  respect.  Presently 
I  had  another  object-lesson  in  the  person  of  a  lady  who  came  in 
and  gave  her  cloak  to  the  attendant,  saying,  *  Put  it  where  you 
can  get  it  easily,  please.  I'll  want  it  again  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.'  I  thought  as  I  looked  at  her  that  social  pleasures  must 
be  to  such  an  one  simply  a  series  of  topographical  experiments. 
I  also  thought  I  should  have  something  to  say  when  next  I 
heard  of  the  hurry  and  high  pressure  in  which  Americans 
lived. 

'  It's  of  no  use,'  said  Lady  Torquilin,  looking  at  the  stairs ; 
*  we  can  never  get  up ;  we  might  as  well  go  with  the  rest 
and ' 

'  Have  some  supper,'  added  somebody  close  behind  us  ;  and 
Lady  Torquilin  said  :  '  Oh,  Charlie  MafFerton  ! '  though  why  she 
should  have  been  surprised  was  more  than  I  could  imagine,  for 
Charlie  Maffertou  was  nearly  always  at  hand.  Wherever  we 
went  to — at  homes,  or  concerts,  or  the  theatre,  or  sight-seeing, 
in  any  direction,  Mr.  Mafferton  turned  up,  either  expectedly  or 
unexpectedly,  with  great  precision,  and  his  manner  toward  Lady 
Torquilin  was  always  as  devoted  as  it  could  be.  I  have  not 
mentioned  him  often  before  in  describing  my  experiences,  and 
shall  probably  not  mention  him  often  again,  because  after  a 
time  I  began  to  take  him  for  granted  as  a  detail  of  almost  every- 
thing we  did.  Lady  Torquilin  seemed  to  like  it,  so  I,  of  course, 
had  no  right  to  object ;  and,  indeed,  I  did  not  particularly  mind, 
because  Mr.  Mafferton  was  always  nice  in  his  manner  to  me,  and 
often  very  interesting  in  his  remarks.  But  if  Lady  Torquilin 
had  not  told  me  that  she  had  known  him  in  short  clothes,  and 
if  I  had  not  been  perfectly  certain  she  was  far  too  sensible  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRJ.  IN  LONDON  173 

give  her  affections  to  a  person  so  much  younger  than  herself,  1 
don't  know  what  I  would  have  thought. 

So  we  went  with  the  rest  and  had  some  supper,  and,  in  the 
anxious  interval  during  which  Lady  Torquilin  and  I  occupied  a 
position  in  the  doorway,  and  Mr.  Mafferton  reconnoitred  for  one 
of  the  little  round  tables,  I  discovered  what  had  been  puzzling 
me  so  about  the  house  ever  since  I  had  come  into  it.  Except 
for  the  people,  and  the  flower  decorations,  and  a  few  chairs,  it 
was  absolutely  empty.  The  people  furnished  it,  so  to  speak, 
xQOving  about  in  the  brilliancy  of  their  dresses  and  diamonds, 
and  the  variety  of  their  manners,  to  such  an  extent  that  I  had 
not  been  able  to  particularise  before  what  I  felt  was  lacking  to 
this  ball.  It  was  a  very  curious  lack — all  the  crewel-work,  and 
Japanese  bric-a-brac,  and  flower  lamp-shades,  that  go  to  make  up 
a  home ;  and  the  substitute  for  it  in  the  gay  lights  and  flowers, 
and  exuberant  supper-table,  and  dense  mass  of  people,  gave  me 
the  feeling  of  having  been  permitted  to  avail  myself  of  a  brilliant 
opportunity,  rather  than  of  being  invited  to  share  the  hospitality 
of  Lady  Torquilin's  friends. 

'  Has  Lady  Powderby  just  moved  in  ?  *  I  asked,  as  we  sat 
down  around  two  bottles  of  champagne,  a  lot  of  things  glacees, 
a  triple  arrangement  of  knives  and  forks,  and  a  pyramid  of 
apoplectic  strawberries. 

'  Lady  Powderby  doesn't  live  here,'  Lady  Torquilin  said. 
*No,  Charlie,  thank  you — sweets  for  you  young  people  if  you 
like — savouries  for  me ! '  and  my  friend  explained  to  me  that 
Lady  Powderby  was  ^  at  home  '  at  this  particular  address  only 
for  this  particular  evening,  and  had  probably  paid  a  good  many 
guineas  house-rent  for  the  night ;  after  which  I  tried  in  vain  to 
feel  a  sense  of  personal  gratitude  for  my  strawberries,  which  I 
was  not  privileged  even  to  eat  with  my  hostess's  fork — though, 


174  AN  AMERICJ^.N  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

of  course,  1  knew  that  this  was  mere  sentiment,  and  that  prac- 
tically I  was  as  much  indebted  to  Lady  Powderby  for  her 
strawberries  as  if  she  had  grown  them  herself.  And,  on  general 
grounds,  I  was  really  glad  to  have  had  the  chance  of  attending 
this  kind  of  ball,  which  had  not  come  within  my  experience 
before.  I  don't  think  it  would  occur  to  anybody  in  Chicago  to 
hire  an  empty  house  to  give  an  entertainment  in ;  and  though, 
now  that  I  think  of  it.  Palmer's  Hotel  is  certainly  often  utilised 
for  this  purpose,  it  is  generally  the  charity  or  benevolent  society 
hop  that  is  given  there. 

During  supper,  while  Lady  Torquilin  was  telling  Mr.  Maffer- 
ton  how  much  we  had  enjoyed  the  '  Opening,'  and  how  kind  his 
cousin  had  been,  I  looked  round.  I  don't  know  whether  it  is 
proper  to  look  round  at  a  ball  in  England — it's  a  thing  I  never 
should  have  thought  of  doing  in  Chicago,  where  I  knew 
exactly  what  I  should  see  if  I  did  look  round — but  the  im- 
personal nature  of  Lady  Powder  by 's  ball  gave  me  a  sense  of 
irresponsibility  to  anybody,  and  the  usual  code  of  manners 
seemed  a  vague  law,  without  any  particular  applicability  to 
present  circumstances.  And  I  was  struck,  much  struck,  with 
the  thorough  business-like  concentration  and  singleness  of 
purpose  that  I  saw  about  me.  The  people  did  not  seem  much 
acquainted,  except  by  twos  and  threes,  and  ignored  each  other, 
for  the  most  part,  in  a  calm,  high-level  way,  that  was  really 
educating  to  see.  But  they  were  not  without  a  common  senti- 
ment and  a  common  aim — they  had  all  come  to  a  ball,  where  it 
devolved  upon  them  to  dance  and  sup,  and  dance  again — to  dance 
and  sup  as  often  as  possible,  and  to  the  greatest  possible  advan- 
tage. This  involved  a  measuring-up  of  what  there  was,  which 
seemed  to  be  a  popular  train  of  thought.  There  was  no  undue 
levity.     If  a  joke  had  been  made  in  that  supper-room  it  would 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  175 

have  exploded  more  violently  than  the  champagne-bottles. 
Indeed,  there  was  as  great  and  serious  decorum  as  was  possible 
among  so  many  human  beings  who  all  required  to  be  fed  at  once, 
with  several  changes  of  plates.  I  observed  a  great  deal  of  be- 
haviour and  a  great  similarity  of  it — the  gentlemen  were  alike, 
and  the  ladies  were  alike,  except  that  some  of  the  ladies  were  a 
little  like  the  gentlemen,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  were  a 
little  like  the  ladies.  This  homogeneity  was  remarkable  to  me, 
considering  how  few  of  them  seemed  to  have  even  a  bowing 
acquaintance  with  each  other.  But  the  impressive  thing  was 
the  solid  unity  of  interest  and  action  as  regarded  the  supper. 

We  struggled  upstairs,  and  on  the  first  landing  met  a  lady- 
relation  of  our  hostess,  with  whom  Lady  Torquilin  shook  hands. 

^  You'll   never  find  her,'  said  this  relation,  referring  to  Lady 
Powderby.      'The    Dyngeleys,   and  the  Porterhouses,  and  the 
Bangley  Coffins  have  all  come  and  gone  without  seeing  her.' 
But  I  may  just  state  here  that  we  did  find  her,  towards  morning, 
in  time  to  say  good-bye. 

When  I  say  that  the  floor  of  Lady  Powderby's  (temporary) 
ball-room  was  full,  I  do  not  adequately  express  the  fact.  It  was 
replete — it  ran  over,  if  that  is  not  too  impulsive  an  expression  for 
the  movement  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  were  twirling 
round  each  other  upon  the  floor,  all  in  one  direction,  to  the 
music.  Witb  the  exception  of  two  or  three  couples,  whose 
excited  gyration  seemed  quite  tipsy  by  contrast,  the  ball 
upstairs  was  going  on  with  the  same  profound  and  determined 
action  as  the  ball  downstairs.  I  noticed  the  same  universal 
look  of  concentration,  the  same  firm  or  nervous  intention  of 
properly  discharging  the  responsibilities  of  the  evening  and 
the  numbers  of  the  programme,  on  the  face  of  the  sweet,  fresh 
debutante,     steadily     getting     pinker  ;    of    the    middle-aged. 


176 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


military  man,  dancing  like  a  disjointed  foot-rule ;  of  the  stout 
old  lady  in  crimson  silk,  very  low  in  the  neck,  who  sat  against 


DANCING    LIKE    A    DISJOINTED    FOOT  RULE 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  177 

the  wall.  The  popular  theory  seemed  to  be  that  the  dancing 
was  something  to  be  Done — the  consideration  of  enjoyment 
brought  it  to  a  lower  plane.  And  it  was  an  improving  sight, 
though  sad. 

Mr.  Mafferton  asked  me  for  Numbers  seven,  and  nine,  and 
eleven — all  waltzes.  I  knew  he  would  be  obliged  to,  out  of 
politeness  to  Lady  Torquilin,  who  had  got  past  dancing  herself; 
but  I  had  been  dreading  it  all  the  time  I  spent  in  watching 
the  other  men  go  round,  while  Mr.  Mafferton  sought  for  a 
chair  for  her.  So  I  suggested  that  we  should  try  Number 
seven,  and  see  how  we  got  on,  ignoring  the  others,  and  saying 
something  weakly  about  my  not  having  danced  for  so  long, 
and  feeling  absolutely  certain  that  I  should  not  be  able  to 
acquit  myself  with  the  erectness — to  speak  of  nothing  else — 
that  seemed  to  be  imperative  at  Lady  Powderby's  ball.  '  Oh ! 
I  am  sure  we  shall  do  very  well,'  said  Mr.  Mafferton.  And  we 
started. 

I  admire  English  dancing.  I  am  accustomed  to  it  now,  and 
can  look  at  a  roomful  of  people  engaged  in  it  without  a  sym- 
pathetic attack  of  vertigo  or  a  crick  in  my  neck.  I  think  it  is, 
perhaps,  as  good  an  exposition  of  the  unbending,  unswerving 
quality  in  your  national  character  as  could  be  found  anywhere, 
in  a  small  way  ;  but  I  do  not  think  an  American  ought  to  tamper 
with  it  without  preliminary  training. 

Mr.  Mafferton  and  I  started- -he  with  confidence,  I  with 
indecision.  You  can  make  the  same  step  with  a  pair 
of  scissors  as  Mr.  Mafferton  made ;  I  did  it  afterwards, 
when  I  explained  to  Lady  Torquilin  how  impossible  it 
was  that  I  should  have  danced  nine  and  eleven  with  him. 
Compared  with  it  I  felt  that  mine  was  a  caper,  and  the  height 
of  impropriety.      You  will  argue  from  this  that  they  do  not 


178 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


go  together  well ; 
and  that  is  quite 
correct.  We  in- 
serted ourselves 
into  the  moving 
mass,  and  I  went 
hopelessly  round 
the  Maypole  that 
Mr.  MafFerton 
seemed  to  have 
turned  into, 
several  times. 
Then  the  room 
began  to  reel. 
^  Don't  you  think 
we  had  better 
reverse  ?  '  I 

asked  ;  *  I  am 
getting  dizzy, 
I'm  afraid.'  Mr. 
Maiferton  stop- 
ped instantly, 
and  the  room 
came  right  again. 
^  Reverse  ? '  he 
said ;  I  don't 
think  I  ever  heard 
of  it.  I  thought 
we  were  getting 
on  capitally  !  ' 
And  when  I  ex- 


EEVERSE?"  HE   SAID:    "l  DON  T   THINK   I   EVEB   HEARD   OF   IT  " 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   TN  LONDON  179 

plained  to  him  that  reversing  meant  turning  round,  and  goiiijj- 
the  other  way,  he  declared  that  it  was  quite  impracticable — 
that  we  would  knock  everybody  else  over,  and  that  he  had 
never  seen  it  done.  After  the  last  argument  I  did  not  press 
the  matter.  It  took  very  little  acquaintance  with  Mr.  MafFerton 
to  know  that,  if  he  had  never  seen  it  doue,  he  never  would 
do  it.  ^  We  will  try  going  back  a  bit,'  he  proposed  instead  ; 
with  the  result  that  after  the  next  four  or  five  turns  he 
began  to  stalk  away  from  me,  going  I  knew  not  whither. 
About  four  minutes  later  we  went  back,  at  my  urgent  request, 
to  Lady  Torquilin,  and  Mr.  Mafferton  told  her  that  we  had 
'hit  it  off  admirably.'  I  think  he  must  have  thought  we  did, 
because  he  said  something  about  not  having  been  quite  able 
t )  catch  m}^  step  at  first,  in  a  way  that  showed  entire  satisfaction 
with  his  later  performance  ;  which  was  quite  natural,  for  Mr. 
Mafferton  was  the  kind  of  person  who,  so  long  as  he  was  doing 
his  best  himself,  would  hardly  be  aware  whether  anybody  else 
was  or  not. 

I  made  several  other  attempts  with  friends  of  Lady  Torquilin 
and  Mr.  Mafferton,  and  a  few  of  them  were  partially  successful, 
though  I  generally  found  it  advisable  to  sit  out  the  latter  parts 
of  them.  This,  when  room  could  be  found,  was  very  amusing  ; 
and  I  noticed  that  it  was  done  all  the  way  up  two  flights  of 
stairs,  and  in  every  other  conceivable  place  that  offered  two  seats 
contiguously.  I  was  interested  to  a  degree  in  one  person  with 
whom  I  sat  out  two  or  three  dances  running.  He  was  quite  a 
young  man,  not  over  twenty-four  or  five,  I  should  think — a 
nephew  of  Lady  Torquilin,  and  an  officer  in  the  Army,  living  at 
Aldershot,  very  handsome,  and  wore  an  eyeglass,  which  was. 
however,  quite  a  common  distinction.  I  must  tell  you  more 
about  him  again  in  connection  with  the  day  Lady  Torquilin  and 


i8o  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

I  spent  at  Aldershot  at  his  invitation,  because  he  really  deserves 
a  chapter  to  himself.  But  it  was  he  who  told  me,  at  Lady 
Powderby's  ball,  referring  to  the  solid  mass  of  humanity  that 
packed  itself  between  us  and  the  door,  that  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  that  he  finally  gained  the  ball-room. 
*  Couldn't  get  in  at  all  at  first,'  said  he,  '  and  while  I  was 
standin'  on  the  outside  edge  of  the  pavement,  a  bobby  has  the 
confounded  impudence  to  tell  me  to  move  along.  *  "  Can't,"  ' 
says  I — "  Tm  at  the  party."  ' 

I  have  always  been  grateful  to  the  Aldershot  officer  for  giving 
me  that  story  to  remember  in  connection  with  liady  Powderby's 
ball,  although  Mr.  MafFerton,  when  I  retailed  it,  couldn't  see 
that  it  was  in  the  least  amusing.  '  Besides,'  he  said,  '  it's  as 
old  as  '*  Punch."  '  But  at  the  end  of  the  third  dance  Mr.  MafFer- 
ton had  been  sent  by  Lady  Torquilin  to  look  for  me,  and  was 
annoyed,  I  have  no  doubt,  by  the  trouble  he  had  to  take  to  find 
me.  And  Mr.  Mafferton's  sense  of  humour  could  never  be  con- 
sidered his  strong  point. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  i8i 


XVll 

A  GREAT  many  other  people  were  going  to  Aldershot  the 
day  we  went  there — so  many  that  the  train,  which  we 
were  almost  too  late  for,  had  nowhere  two  spare  seats  together. 
Just  at  the  last  minute,  after  Lady  Torquilin  had  decided  that 
we  must  travel  separately,  the  guard  unlocked  the  door  of  a 
first-class  carriage  occupied  by  three  gentlemen  alone.  It 
afforded  much  more  comfortable  accommodation  than  the  car- 
riage Lady  Torquilin  was  crowded  into,  but  there  was  no  time 
to  tell  her,  so  I  got  in  by  myself,  and  sat  down  in  the  left-hand 
corner  going  backward,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the  landscape. 
The  gentlemen  were  so  much  more  interesting,  however,  that 
I  am  afraid,  though  I  ostensibly  looked  at  the  landscape,  I  paid 
much  more  attention  to  them,  which  I  hope  was  comparatively 
proper,  since  they  were  not  aware  of  it.  They  were  all  rather 
past  middle  age,  all  very  trim,  and  all  dressed  to  ride.  There 
the  similarity  among  them  ended ;  and  besides  being  different 
from  one  another,  they  were  all  different  from  any  American 
gentlemen  I  had  ever  met.  That  is  the  reason  they  were  so 
deeply  interesting. 

One,  who  sat  opposite  me,  was  fair,  with  large  blue  eyes 
and  an  aquiline  nose,  and  a  well-defined,  clean-shaven  face,  all 
but  his  graceful  moustache.  He  was  broad-shouldered  and  tall, 
and  muscular  and  lean,  and  he  lounged,  illuminating  his  con- 
versation with  a  sweet  and  easy  smile.     He  looked  very  clever, 


l82 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


and  T  think  he  must  have  been  told  all  his  life  that  he  re- 
sembled the  Duke  of  Wellington.  The  one  in  the  other  corner, 
opposite,  was  rosy  and  round-faced,  with  twinkling  blue  eyes 
and  a  grey 
moustache,  and 
he  made  a  com- 
fortable angle 
with  his  rotund 
person  and  the 
wall,  crossing  his 
excellent      legs. 


'I   OSTENSIBLY    LOOKED   AT    THE    LANDSCAPE 


The  one  on  m}  side,  of  whom  I  had  necessarily  an  imperfect 
view,  was  very  grey,  and  had  a  straight  nose  and  a  pair  of  level 
eyes,  rather  pink  about  the  edges,  and  carefully-cut  whiskers 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


183 


and  sloping  shoulders.  He  did  not  lounge  at  all,  or  even  cross 
his  legs,  but  sat  bolt  upright  and  read  the  paper.  He  looked 
like  a  person  of  extreme  views  upon  propriety,  and  a  rather 
bad  temper.  The  first  man  had  the  '  Times,'  the  second  the 
'  Standard,'  and  the  third  the  '  Morning  Post.'  I  think  they 
all  belonged  to  the  upper  classes. 

They  began  to 
talk,  especially  the 
two  opposite,  the 
lean  man  throwing 
his  remarks  and  his 
easy    smiles    indo- 


THEY  WERE  ALL  DIF- 
FERENT FROM  AXY  AME- 
RICAN   GENTLEMEN  ' 


lently  across  the  valises  on  the  seat  between  them.  lie  spoke  of 
the  traffic  in  Piccadilly,  where  '  a  brute  of  an  omnibus '  had 
taken  off  a  carriage-wheel  for  him  the  day  before.  He  was  of 
opinion  that  too  many  omnibuses  were  allowed  to  run  through 
Piccadilly — «a  considerable  lot'  too  many.  He  also  found 
the  condition  of  one  or  two  streets  in  that  neighbourhood 
13 


i84  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

'  disgustinV  and  was  '  goin'  to  call  attention  to  it.'  All  in  cool, 
high,  pleasant,  indolent  tones. 

'  Write  a  letter  to  the  "  Times," '  said  the  other,  Tvith  a 
broad  smile,  as  if  it  were  an  excellent  joke.  *  I  don't  mind 
reading  it.' 

The  first  smiled  gently  and  thoughtfully  down  upon  his 
boot.  *  Will  you  guarantee  that  anybody  else  does  ? '  said  he. 
And  they  chaffed.  My  neighbour  turned  his  paper  impatiently, 
and  said  nothing. 

*What'r'you  goin'  to  ride  to-day?'  asked  the  first.  His 
voice  was  delightfully  refined. 

*  Haven't  a  notion.  Believe  thev've  got  something  for  me 
down  there.  Expect  the  worst ' — which  also,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  seemed  to  amuse  them  very  much. 

*  You've  heard  'bout  Puhbelow,  down  heah  year  befoh  last — 
old  Puhbelow,  used  to  c'mand  25th  Wangers  ?  A.D.C.  wides 
up  t'  Puhbelow  an'  tells  him  he's  wanted  at  headquahtehs  im- 
mediately. "  That  case,"  says  Puhbelow,  "  I'd  better  walk  !  " 
An'  he  did,^  said  my  ms-dr-vis. 

*  Lord ! '  returned  the  other,  *  I  hope  it  won't  come  to 
that.' 

*  It's  the  last  day  I  shall  be.  able  to  turn  out/  he  went  on, 
ruefully. 

'  For  w'y  ?  ' 

*  Can't  get  inside  my  uniform  another  year.' 

*  Supuhfluous  adipose  tissue  ?  ' 

*  Rather !'  Attended  the  Levee  last  week,  an'  came  awa} 
black  in  the  face !  At  my  time  o'  life  a  man's  got  to  consider 
his  buttons.  'Pon  my  word,  I  envy  you  lean  dogs.'  He  ad- 
dressed both  his  neighbour  and  the  pink-eyed  man,  who  took 
no  notice  of  the  pleasantry,  but  folded  his  paper  the  other  way, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  185 

and  said,  without  looking  up,  that  that  ha(!  been  a  very  disas- 
trous flood  in  the  United  States. 

'  They  do  everything  on  a  big  scale  over  thayah,'  remarked 
the  man  across  from  me,  genially,  '  includin'  swindles.' 

The  round-faced  gentleman's  eye  kindled  with  new  interest. 
'  Weie  you  let  in  on  those  Kakeboygan  Limiteds  ?  '  he  said. 
'  By  Jove ! — abominable  !  Never  knew  a  cooler  thing  !  Must 
have  scooped  in  fifty  thousand  ! ' 

'  It  was  ve'y  painful,'  said  the  other,  unexcitedly.  *  By  th' 
way,  what  d'you  think  of  Littlo  Toledos  ?  ' 

*  Don't  know  anything  about  'em.  Bought  a  few — daresay 
I've  dropped  my  money.' 

'-  Wilkinson  wanted  me  to  buy.  Lunched  the  beast  last 
week,  expectin'  to  get  a  pointer.  Confounded  sharp  scoundrel, 
Wilkinson!'  And  this  gentleman  smiled  quite  seraphically. 
'  Still  expectin'.  I  see  Oneida  Centrals  have  reached  a  pre- 
mium. Bought  a  lot  eight  months  ago  for  a  song.  Cheapah 
to  buy  'em,  I  thought,  than  waste  more  money  in  somethin'  I 
knew  as  little  about !  There's  luck ! '  This  stage  of  the  con- 
versation found  me  reflecting  upon  the  degree  of  depravity 
involved  in  getting  the  better  of  the  business  capacity  which 
made  its  investments  on  these  principles.  I  did  not  meditate  a 
defence  for  my  fellow-countrymen,  but  I  thought  they  had  a 
pretty  obvious  temptation. 

The  talk  drifted  upon  clubs,  and  the  gentlemen  expressed 
their  preferences.  *  Hear  you're  up  for  the  Army  and  Navy,' 
said  the  rosy-faced  one. 

*  Ye-es.  Beastly  bore  getting  in,'  returned  he  of  the  aqui- 
line nose,  dreamily. 

*  How  long  ? ' 

*  'Bout  two  years,  I  believe.     I'm  up  again  for  the  United 


i86  AA   AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Service,  too.  Had  ^  fit  of  economy  in  '85 — year  of  the  Taran- 
tillas  smash — you  were  in  that,  too,  wehn't  you  ? — an'  knocked 
off  five  o'  six  o'  my  clubs.  They  make  no  end  of  a  wow  about 
lettin'  you  in  again.' 

'  Well,  the  Rag's  good  enough  for  me,  and  the  Lyric's 
convenient  to  take  a  lady  to.  They  say  the  Corinthian's  the 
thing  to  belong  to  now,  though,'  said  the  round  gentleman, 
tentatively. 

*  If  you  have  a  taste  for  actresses,'  returned  the  other,  with 
another  tender  glance  at  his  boot. 

Then  it  appeared,  from  a  remark  from  the  pink-eyed  one, 
that  he  dined  at  the  Carlton  four  nights  out  of  seven — stood 
by  the  Carlton — hoped  he  might  never  enter  a  better  club — 
never  met  a  cad  there  in  his  life.  Fairly  lived  there  when  he 
wasn't  in  Manchester. 

*  D'you  live  in  Manchester  ? '  drawled  the  thin  gentleman, 
quite  agreeably.  Now,  what  was  there  in  that  to  make  the 
pink-eyed  one  angry  ?  Is  Manchester  a  disreputable  place 
to  live  in  ?  But  he  was — as  angry  as  possible.  The  pink 
spread  all  over,  under  his  close-trimmed  whiskers  and  down 
behind  his  collar.  He  answered,  in  extremely  rasping  and 
sub-indignant  tones,  that  he  had  a  '  place  near  it,'  and  retired 
from  the  conversation. 

Then  the  rotund  gentleman  stated  that  there  were  few 
better  clubs  than  the  Constitutional;  and  then,  what  a  view 
you  could  get  from  the  balconies  !  *  Tremendous  fine  view,'  he 
said,  '  I  tell  you,  at  night,  when  the  place  is  lighted  up,  an' 
the  river  in  the  distance ' 

'  Moon  ? '  inquired  his  companion,  sweetly.  But  the  stout 
gentleman's  robust  sentiment  failed  him  at  this  point,  and  he 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  187 

turned  the  conversation  abruptly  to  something  else — a  '  house- 
party  '  somewhere. 

'Have  you  got  what  they  call  a  pleasant  invitation?'  the 
other  asked ;  and  the  portly  one  said  Yes,  in  fact  he  had  three, 
with  a  smile  of  great  satisfaction.  Just  then  the  train  stopped, 
and  we  all  changed  cars,  and  I,  rejoining  Lady  Torquilin,  lost 
my  entertaining  fellow-passengers.  I  was  sorry  it  stopped  at 
that  point,  because  I  particularly  wanted  to  know  what  a  house- 
party  and  a  pleasant  invitation  were — they  seemed  to  me  to  be 
idiomatic,  and  I  had  already  begun  to  collect  English  idioms 
to  take  home  with  me.  In  fact,  I  should  have  liked  to  have  gone 
on  observing  the  landscape  from  my  unobtrusive  corner  all  the 
way  to  Aldershot  if  I  could — these  gentlemen  made  such  inte- 
resting incidents  to  the  journey — though  I  know  I  have  told 
you  that  two  or  three  times  before,  without  making  you  under- 
stand in  the  least,  I  am  afraid,  how  or  why  they  did.  There 
was  a  certain  opulence  and  indifference  about  them  which 
differed  from  the  kind  of  opulence  and  indifference  you  gene- 
rally see  in  the  United  States  in  not  being  in  the  least  assumed. 
They  did  not  ignore  the  fact  of  my  existence  in  the  corner — 
they  talked  as  if  they  were  not  aware  of  it.  And  they  had 
worn  the  conventionalism  of  England  so  long  that  it  had  become 
a  sort  of  easy  uniform,  which  they  didn't  know  they  had  on. 
They  impressed  you  as  having  always  before  them,  uncon- 
sciously, a  standard  of  action  and  opinion — though  their  per- 
ception of  it  might  be  as  different  as  possible — and  as  conducting 
themselves  in  very  direct  relation  to  that  standard.  I  don't 
say  this  because  none  of  them  used  bad  language  or  smoked 
in  my  presence.  The  restraint  was  not  to  be  defined — a  delicate, 
all-pervasive  thing;  and  it  was  closely  connected  with  a  lack 


i88  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

of  enthusiasm  upon  any  subject,  except  the  approach  to  it  the 
rounded  gentleman  made  with  reference  to  the  Constitutional 
view.  They  could  not  be  considered  flippant,  and  yet  their 
talk  played  very  lightly  upon  the  surface  of  their  minds,  making 
no  drafts  upon  any  reserve  store  of  information  or  opinion. 
This  was  odd  to  me.  I  am  sure  no  three  Americans  who  knew 
each  other  could  travel  together  in  a  box  about  six  by  eight 
without  starting  a  theory  and  arguing  about  it  seriously,  or 
getting  upon  politics,  or  throwing  themselves  into  the  conver- 
sation in  some  way  or  other. 

But  I  have  no  doufct  that,  to  be  impressed  with  such  things 
as  these,  you  must  be  brought  up  in  Chicago,  where  people  are 
different.  Lady  Torquilin  was  unable  to  tell  me  anything  about 
the  gentlemen  from  my  description  of  them ;  she  said  they  were 
exactly  like  anybody  else,  and  as  for  gambling  in  stocks,  she 
had  no  sympathy  with  anybody  who  lost —  seeming  to  think  that 
I  had,  and  that  that  was  what  had  attracted  my  attention. 

The  young  officer  was  at  Aldershot  Station  to  meet  us, 
looking  quite  a  different  person  in  his  uniform.  I  can't  pos- 
sibly describe  the  uniform,  or  you  would  know  the  regiment, 
and  possibly  the  officer,  if  you  are  acquainted  with  Aldershot — 
which  he  might  not  like.  But  I  may  say,  without  fear  of 
identifying  him,  that  he  wore  a  red  coat,  and  looked  very  hand- 
some in  it — red  is  such  a  popular  colour  among  officers  in 
England,  and  so  generally  becoming.  He  was  a  lieutenant, 
and  his  name  was  Oddie  Pratte.  By  the  time  I  found  this  out, 
which  was  afterwards,  when  Mr.  Pratte  had  occasion  to  write 
two  or  three  letters  to  me,  which  he  signed  in  that  way,  I  had 
noticed  how  largely  pet  names  cling  to  gentlemen  in  England 
— not  only  to  young  -.  gentlemen  in  the  Army,  but  even  to 
middle-aged  family  men.     Mr.  Winterhazel's  name  is  Bertram, 


*  ODDIE   PRATTIE  ' 


I90  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

and  I  should  be  interested  to  hear  what  he  would  say  if  any  one 
addressed  him  as  '  Bertie.'  I  think  he  would  be  mad,  as  we 
say  in  America.  If  I  had  ever  called  him  anything  but  Mr. 
Winterhazel — which  I  have  not — I  would  do  it  myself  when  I 
return,  just  for  an  experiment.  I  don't  think  any  gentleman 
in  the  United  States,  out  of  pinafores,  could  be  called  '  Bertie ' 
with  impunity.  We  would  contract  it  into  the  brutal  brevity  of 
*Bert,'  and  'Eddie'  to  'Ed,'  and  'Willie'  to  'Will,'  and 
'  Bobby '  to  '  Bob.'  But  it  is  a  real  pleasing  feature  of  your 
civilisation,  this  overlapping  of  nursery  tenderness  upon  maturer 
years,  and  I  hope  it  will  spread.  What  '  Oddie '  was  derived 
from  I  never  got  to  know  Mr.  Pratte  well  enough  to  ask,  but 
he  sustained  it  with  more  dignity  than  I  would  have  believed 
possible.  That  is  the  remarkable — at  any  rate  a  remarkable — 
characteristic  of  you  English  people.  You  sustain  everything 
with  dignity,  from  your  Lord  Mayor's  Show  to  your  farthing 
change.     You  are  never  in  the  least  anjused  at  yourselves. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  191 


XVIII 

'  A  WF'LY  glad  youVe  been  able  to  come ! '  said  Mr.  Pratte, 
-^^  leading  the  way  to  his  dogcart,  quite  a  marked  figure,  in 
his  broad  red  shoulders,  among  the  dark-coloured  crowd  at  the 
station.  '  There's  so  much  going  on  in  the  village  I  was  afraid 
you'd  change  your  mind.  Frightful  state  of  funk,  I  assure  you, 
every  time  the  post  came  in ! '  Mr.  Pratte  spoke  to  Lady 
Torquilin,  but  looked  across  at  me.  We  are  considerably  more 
simple  than  this  in  America.  If  a  gentleman  wants  to  say  some- 
thing polite  to  you,  he  never  thinks  of  transmitting  it  through 
somebody  else.  But  your  way  is  much  the  most  convenient. 
It  gives  one  the  satisfaction  of  being  complimented  without  the 
embarrassment  of  having  to  reply  in  properly  negative  terms. 
So  it  was  Lady  Torquilin  who  said  how  sorry  we  should  have 
been  to  miss  it,  and  I  found  no  occasion  for  remark  until  we 
were  well  started.  Then  I  made  the  unavoidable  statement  that 
Aldershot  seemed  to  be  a  pretty  place,  though  I  am  afraid  it 
did  not  seriously  occur  to  me  that  it  was. 

'Oh,  it's  a  hole  of  sorts  ! '  remarked  Mr.  Pratte.  'But  to 
see  it  in  its  pristine  beauty  you  should  be  here  when  it  rains. 
It's  adorable  then  ! '  By  that  time  I  had  observed  that  Mr. 
Pratte  had  very  blue  eyes,  with  a  great  deal  of  laugh  in  them. 
His  complexion  you  could  find  in  America  only  at  the  close  of 
the  seaside  season,  among  the  people  who  have  just  come  home, 
and  even  then  it  would  be  patchy — it  would  not  have  the  solid 


191  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

richness  of  tint  that  Mr.  Pratte's  had.  It  was  a  wholesome 
complexion,  and  it  went  very  well  with  the  rest  of  Mr.  Pratte. 
I  liked  its  tones  of  brown  and  red,  and  the  way  it  deepened  in 
his  nose  and  the  back  of  his  neck.  In  fact,  I  might  as  well  say 
in  the  beginning  that  I  liked  Mr.  Pratte  altogether — there  was 
something  very  winning  about  him.  His  manner  was  vari- 
able :  sometimes  extremely  flippant,  sometimes — and  then  he  let 
his  eyeglass  drop — profoundly  serious,  and  sometimes,  when  he 
had  it  in  mind,  preserving  a  level  of  cynical  indifference  that 
was  impressively  interesting,  and  seemed  to  stand  for  a  deep  and 
unsatisfactory  experience  of  life.  For  the  rest,  he  was  just  a  tall 
young  subaltern,  very  anxious  to  be  amused,  with  a  dog. 

Mr.  Pratte  went  on  to  say  that  he  was  about  the  only  man  in 
the  place  not  on  parade.  There  was  some  recondite  reason  for 
this,  which  I  have  forgotten.  Lady  Torquilin  asked  him  how  his 
mother  and  sisters  were,  and  he  said  :  '  Oh,  they  were  as  fit  as 
possible,  thanks,  according  to  latest  despatches,'  which  I  at  once 
mentally  put  down  as  a  lovely  idiom  for  use  in  my  next  Chicago 
letter.  I  wanted,  above  all  things,  to  convince  them  at  home 
that  I  was  wasting  no  time  so  far  as  the  language  was  concerned ; 
and  I  knew  they  would  not  understand  it,  which  was,  of  course, 
an  additional  pleasure.  I  would  express  myself  very  clearly 
about  it  though,  I  thought,  so  as  not  to  suggest  epilepsy  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort. 

Americans  are  nearly  always  interested  in  public  buildings. 
We  are  very  proud  of  our  own,  and  generally  point  them  out 
to  strangers  before  anything  else,  and  I  was  surprised  that  Mr. 
Pratte  mentioned  nothing  of  the  sort  as  we  drove  through 
Aldershot.  So  the  first  one  of  any  size  or  importance  that  met 
my  eye  I  dsked  him  about.  '  That,  I  suppose,  is  your  jail  ? '  I 
said,  with  polite  interest,  as  we  came  in  sight  of  a  long  building 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  193 

with  that  simplicity  of  exterior  that  always  characterises  jails. 
Our  subaltern  gave  vent  to  a  suppressed  roar.  '  What  is  she 
saying  now  ? '  asked  Lady  Torquilin,  who  had  not  been  paying 
attention. 

^  She  says — oh,  I  say,  Auntie,  what  a  score !  Miss  Wick 
has  just  pointed  out  that  building  as  Aldershot  jViiZ  / ' 

'Isn't  it? 'said  I. 

'  I'm  afraid  Miss  Wick  is  pullin'  our  leg,  Auntie !  * 

Now,  I  was  in  the  back  seat,  and  what  could  have  induced 
Mr.  Pratte  to  charge  me  with  so  unparalleled  and  impossible  a 
familiarity  I  couldn't  imagine,  not  being  very  far  advanced  in 
the  language  at  the  time ;  but  when  Mr.  Pratte  explained  that 
the  buildings  I  referred  to  were  the  officers'  quarters,  with  his 
own  colonel's  at  one  end — and  '  Great  Scott ! '  said  Mr.  Pratte, 
going  off  again,  *  What  would  the  old  man  say  to  that  ? ' — I  felt 
too  much  overcome  by  my  own  stupidity  to  think  about  it.  I  have 
since  realised  that  I  was  rather  shocked.  It  was,  of  course,  im- 
possible to  mention  public  buildings  again  in  any  connection,  and, 
although  I  spent  a  long  and  agreeable  day  at  Aldershot,  if  you 
were  to  ask  me  whether  it  had  so  much  as  a  town  pump,  I 
couldn't  tell  you.  But  I  must  say  I  am  not  of  the  opinion  that 
it  had.  To  speak  American,  it  struck  me  as  being  rather  a 
one-horse  town,  though  nothing  could  be  nicer  than  I  found  it 
as  a  military  centre. 

We  drove  straight  out  of  town  to  the  parade-ground,  over  a 
road  that  wound  through  rugged-looking,  broken  fields,  yellow 
with  your  wonderful  flaming  gorse  and  furze,  which  struck  me 
as  contJrasting  oddly  with  the  neatness  of  your  landscapes  gene- 
rally. When  I  remarked  upon  their  uncultivated  state,  Mr. 
Pratte  said,  with  some  loftiness,  that  military  operations  were 
not  a(Jvantageously  conducted  in  standing  corn — meaning  wheat 


194 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


— and  1  decided  for  the  rest  of  the  day  to  absorb  information, 
as  far  as  possible,  without  inquiring  for  it. 

It  was  a  lovely  day — no  clouds,  no  dust,  nothing  but  blue 
sky,  and  sunshine  on  the  gorse ;  and  plenty  of  people,  all  of 
whom  seemed  to  have  extreme  views  upon  the  extraordinary 
fineness  of  the  weather,  were  on  their  way  to  the  parade- 
ground,  chiefly  driving   in   dogcarts.     Whenever  we  passed  a 


'  WE   DROVE    STRAIGHT   OUT   OF   TOWN   TO   THE    PARADE-GROUND 


lady  in  anything  more  ambitious,  Mr.  Pratte  invariably  saluted 
very  nicely  indeed,  and  told  Lady  Torquilin  that  she  was  the 
wife  of  Colonel  So-and-so,  commanding  the  somethingth  some- 
thing. And  I  noticed  all  through  the  day  what  a  great  deal  of 
consideration  these  ladies  received  from  everybody,  and  what 
extraordinary  respect  was  accorded  to  their  husbands.  I  have 
no  doubt  it  is  a  class  distinction  of  yours,  and  very  proper ;  but 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  195 

I  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  number  of  colonels  and  their 
families  we  have  at  home,  and  how  little  more  we  think  of 
them  on  that  account.  Poppa's  head  man  in  the  baking- 
powder  business  for  years  was  a  colonel — Colonel  Canister ;  so 
is  poppa  himself — and  I  never  knew  either  of  them  show  that 
they  thought  anything  of  it.  I  suppose  momma's  greatest  friend 
is  Mrs.  Colonel  Pabbly,  but  that  is  because  their  tastes  are 
similar  and  their  families  about  the  same  age.  For  that  matter, 
I  daresay  one-third  of  the  visiting-cards  momma  receives  have 
*  Colonel '  between  the  '  Mrs.'  and  the  last  name.  It  is  really 
no  particular  distinction  in  America. 

We  were  rather  late,  and  all  the  best  places  had  been  taken 
up  by  the  dogcarts  of  other  people.  They  formed  an  apparently 
unbroken  front,  or,  more  properly,  back.^  wherever  we  wanted  to 
get  in.  By  some  extraordinary  means,  however,  more  as  a 
matter  of  course  than  anything  else — it  couldn't  have  been  done 
in  America — Mr.  Pratte  inserted  his  dogcart  in  an  extremely 
advantageous  position,  and  I  saw  opposite,  and  far  off,  the  long, 
long  double  line  of  soldiers,  stretching  and  wavering  as  the 
country  dipped  and  swelled  under  the  sky.  '  In  a  minute,' 
said  Mr.  Pratte,  'you'll  hear  the  "furious  joy"' — and  an  instant 
later  there  came  splitting  and  spitting  against  the  blue,  from 
east  to  west,  and  from  west  to  east,  the  chasing  white  smoke- 
jets  of  the  feu  de  joie.  You  have  a  few  very  good  jokes  in 
England. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  two  of  the  bands  which  defied  each 
other  for  the  rest  of  the  morning  began  playing  at  that  instant 
to  prevent  any  diminution  in  the  furious  joy,  while  the  long  line 
of  soldiers  broke  up  into  blocks,  each  block  going  off  somewhere 
by  itself ;  and  Mr.  Pratte  told  Lady  Torquilin  about  a  dance  in 
town  the  night  before,  where  he  met  a  lot  of  people  he  loved. 


196  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

'  Was  the  fair  and  only  one  there  ? '  Lady  Torqnilin  inquired 
with  archness  ;  and  Mr.  Pratte's  countenance  suddenly  became 
rueful  as  he  dropped  his  eyeglass.  '  Yes,'  he  said  ;  *  but  there's 
a  frost  on — we  don't  play  with  each  other  any  more  ! '  And 
I  believe  other  confidences  followed,  which  I  did  not  feel  entitled 
to  hear,  so  I  divided  my  attention  between  the  two  bands  and 
the  parade.  One  band  stood  still  at  a  little  distance,  and  played 
as  hard  as  possible  continually,  and  every  regiment  sent  its  own 
band  gloriously  on  ahead  of  it  with  the  colonel,  generally  getting 
the  full  significance  out  of  a  Scotch  jig,  which  Mr.  Pratte  said  was 
the  '  march-past.'     It  made  a  most  magnificently  effective  noise. 

I  hope  the  person  for  whose  benefit  that  parade  was  chiefly 
intended — I  believe  there  is  always  some  such  person  in  connec- 
tion with  parades — was  as  deeply  impressed  with  it  as  I  was. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  English  soldiers  in  bulk, 
and  they  presented  a  threatening  solidity  which  I  should  think 
would  be  very  uninteresting  to  the  enemy.  There  are  more 
interstices  in  our  regiments — I  think  it  must  be  admitted  that 
we  are  nationally  thinner  than  you  are.  Besides,  what  we  are 
still  in  the  habit  of  calling  '  our  recent  unpleasantness '  hap- 
pened about  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  and  I  shouldn't  think 
myself  that  a  taste  for  blood  could  survive  that  period  of  peace 
and  comfort,  to  be  very  obvious.  Certainly,  Chicago  parades 
had  not  prepared  me  for  anything  so  warlike  as  this.  Not  that 
I  should  encourage  anybody  to  open  hostilities  with  us,  however. 
Though  we  are  thin,  we  might  be  found  lively. 

The  cavalry  regiments  were  splendid,  with  the  colonel's  horse 
as  conscious  as  anybody  of  what  was  expected  of  him,  as  the 
colonel's  horse,  stepping  on  ahead ;  and  particularly  the  Lancers, 
with  their  gay  little  pennons  flying;  but  there  was  not  the 
rhythmic  regularity  in  their  movement  that  was  so  beautiful  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


197 


see  in  the  infantry  coming  after.      Lady  Torquilin  found  it  very 
absurd — there  were  so  many  points  to  notice  that  were  more 


admirable — that  the 
parade  was  that  long, 
saw  from  the  rear  as 
once ;  but  it  seemed  to 
of  martial  order  in  it, 
That,  and  the  swing  of 
gleam  of  the  sun  on 


^ 


thing  I  liked  best  in  the  whole 
quick,  instant  crinkle  that  we 
every  man  bent  his  knee  at 
me  to  have  the  whole  essence 
and  to  hold  great  fascination, 
the  Highlanders'  kilts,  and  the 
their  philabegs,  and  the  pride 


•  WITH   THEIR    GAY   LITTLE    PENNONS   FLYING  ' 

of  their  marching.  That  Aldershot  Highland  regiment,  with  its 
screaming  bagpipes,  seemed,  to  my  Chicago  imagination,  to  have 
marched  straight  out  of  Inkermann.  Then  came  the  South  Wales 


198  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Borderers,  and  I  heard  the  story  of  the  Isandula  colours,  with 
the  Queen's  little  gold  wreal  h  above  them,  that  went,  preciously 
furled,  in  the  middle.  I  wished  then — though  it  is  not  consistent 
with  the  Monroe  doctrine — that  we  had  a  great  standing  army, 
with  traditions  and  a  constant  possibility  of  foreign  fighting.  It 
may  be  discouraging  to  the  increase  of  the  male  population,  but 
it  encourages  sentiment,  and  is  valuable  on  that  account. 

So  they  all  came  and  passed  and  went,  and  came  and 
passed  and  went  again,  three  times — the  whole  ten  thousand 
cavalry,  infantry,  artillery,  commissariat,  ambulance,  doctors, 
mules,  and  all— with  a  great  dust,  and  much  music,  and  a 
tremendous  rattling  and  bumping  when  the  long  waggons  came, 
at  the  rear  of  which  a  single  soldier  sat  in  each,  with  his  legs 
hanging  down,  looking  very  sea-sick  and  unhappy.  And  they 
showed  me  a  prince-subaltern,  walking  through  the  dust  beside 
his  company  with  the  others.  Nobody  seemed  to  see  anything 
remarkable  in  this  but  me,  so  I  thought  it  best  to  display  no 
surprise.  But  the  nominal  nature  of  some  privileges  in  England 
began  to  grow;  upon  me.  I  also  saw  a  mule— a  stout,  well- 
grown,  talented  mule — who  did  nob  wish  to  parade.  I  was  glad 
of  the  misbehaviour  of  that  mule.  It  reduced  to  some  extent 
the  gigantic  proportions  of  my  respect  for  the  British  Army. 

I  met  some  of  the  colonels,  and  their  wives  and  daughters, 
afterwards,  and  in  most  cases  I  was  lost  in  admiration  of  the 
military  tone  of  the  whole  family.  Chicago  colonels  often  have 
very  little  that  is  strikingly  military  about  them,  and  their  families 
nothing  at  all.  But  here  the  daughters  carried  themselves  erect, 
moved  stiffly  but  briskly,  and  turned  on  their  heels  as  sharply  as  if 
they  were  on  the  parade-ground.  I  suppose  it  would  be  difficult 
to  live  in  such  constant  association  with  troops  and  barracks,  and 
salutes  and  sentries,  and  the  word  of  command,  without  assimi- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  199 

lating  somewhat  ol"  the  distinctive  charm  of  these  things  ;  and  the 
way  some  of  the  colonels'  ladies  clipped  their  sentences,  and  held 
their  shoulders,  and  otherwise  identified  themselves  with  their 
regiments,  was  very  taking.  It  explained  itself  further  when  I 
saw  the  '  quarters'  in  which  one  or  two  of  them  kept  house — 
very  pleasant  quarters,  where  we  received  most  interesting  and 
delightful  hospitality.  But  it  would  be  odd  if  domesticity  in 
a  series  of  rooms  very  square  and  very  similar,  with  '  C.  0.' 
painted  in  black  letters  over  all  their  doors,  did  not  develop 
something  a  little  different  from  the  ordinary  English  lady 
accustomed  to  cornices  and  portieres. 

Then  came  lunch  at  the  mess,  at  which,  as  the  colonel  took 
care  of  Lady  Torquilin,  I  had  the  undivided  attention  of  Mr. 
Oddie  Pratte,  which  I  enjoyed.  Mr.  Pratte  was  curious  upon 
the  subject  of  American  girls  at  home — he  told  me  he  began 
to  believe  himself  misinformed  about  them — seriously,  and 
dropping  his  eyeglass.  He  would  like  to  know  accurately — 
under  a  false  impression  one  made  such  awkward  mistakes — 
well,  for  instance,  if  it  were  true  that  they  were  up  to  all  sorts 
of  games  at  home,  how  was  it  they  were  all  so  deucedly  solemn 
when  they  came  over  here  ?  Mr.  Pratte  hoped  I  wouldn't  be 
offended — of  course,  he  didn't  mean  that  /  was  solemn — but — 
well,  I  knew  what  he  meant — I  must  know  !  And  wouldn't  I 
have  some  more  sugar  for  those  strawberries  ?  *  I  like  crowds 
of  sugar,  don't  you  ? '  said  Mr.  Oddie  Pratte.  Another  thing, 
he  had  always  been  told  that  they  immediately  wanted  to  see 
Whitechapel.  Now  he  had  asked  every  American  girl  he'd  met 
this  season  whether  she  had  seen  Whitechapel,  and  not  one  of 
'em  had.  He  wasn't  going  to  ask  me  on  that  account.  They 
didn't,  as  a  rule,  seem  to  see  the  joke  of  the  thing.  Mr.  Pratte 
would  like  to  know  if  I  had  ever  met  the  M'Clures,  of  New 
14 


200  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

York — Nellie  M'Clure  was  a  great  pal  of  his — and  was  disap* 
pointed  that  I  hadn't.  The  conversation  turned  to  India,  whither 
Mr.  Pratte's  regiment  was  ordered  to  proceed  immediately,  and 
I  received  a  good  deal  of  information  as  to  just  how  amusing  life 
might  be  made  there  from  Mr.  Pratte.  'They  say  a  mjiu 
marries  as  soon  as  he  learns  enough  Anglo-Indian  to  propose  in  !  * 
he  remarked,  with  something  like  anticipative  regret.  '  First 
dance  apt  to  be  fatal — bound  to  bowl  over  before  the  end  of  the 
season.  Simla  girl  is  known  to  be  irresistible.'  And  Lady 
Torquilin,  catching  this  last,  put  in  her  oar  in  her  own  inimi- 
table way.  '  You're  no  nephew  of  mine,  Oddie,'  said  she,  '  if 
you  can't  say  "  No.'"  Whereat  I  was  very  sorry  for  Oddie,  and 
forgave  him  everything. 

There  was  tea  on  the  lawn  afterwards,  and  bagpipes  to  the 
full  lung-power,  of  three  Highlanders  at  once,  walking  up  and 
down,  and  beating  time  on  the  turf  with  one  foot  in  a  manner 
that  was  simply  extraordinary  considering  the  nature  of  what 
they  were  playing  ;  and  conversation  with  more  Aldershot  ladies, 
followed  by  an  inspection  in  a  body  of  Mr.  Pratte's  own  paiticu- 
lar  corner  of  the  barracks,  full  of  implements  of  war.  and 
charming  photographs,  and  the  performance  of  Mr.  Pratte's  in- 
tellectual, small  dog.  That  ended  the  Aldershot  parade.  We 
have  so  few  parades  of  any  sort  in  America,  except  when  some- 
body of  importance  dies—  and  then  they  are  apt  to  be  depressing 
— that  I  \^as  particularly  glad  to  have  seen  it. 


k 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  201 


XIX 

POPPA'S  interests  in  London  necessitated  liis  liaving  lawyers 
there — Messrs.  Pink,  Pink  &  Co.,  of  Oheapside.  If  you 
know  New  York,  you  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that  I  had 
always  thought  Cheapside  a  kind  of  Bowery,  probably  full  of 
second-hand  clothing  shops  and  ice-cream  parlours — the  last 
place  1  should  think  of  looking  for  a  respectable  firm  of  solicitors 
in,  especially  after  cherishing  the  idea  all  my  life  that  London 
lawyers  were  to  be  found  only  in  Chancery  Lane.  But  that  was 
Messrs.  Pink  &  Pink's  address,  and  the  mistake  was  one  of  the 
large  number  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  correct  for  me. 

It  was  a  matter  of  some  regret  to  poppa  that  Messrs.  Pink 
&  Pink  were  bachelors,  and  could  not  very  well  be  expected  to 
exert  themselves  for  me  personally  on  that  account ;  two  Mrs. 
Pinks,  he  thought,  might  have  done  a  little  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  me  in  London,  and  would,  probably,  have  put  themselves  out 
more  or  less  to  do  it.  But  there  was  no  Mrs.  Pink,  so  I  was 
indebted  to  these  gentlemen  for  money  only,  which  they  sent  me 
whenever  I  wrote  to  them  for  it,  by  arrangement  w^ith  poppa. 
1  was  surprised,  therefore,  to  receive  one  morning  an  extremely 
polite  note  from  Messrs.  Pink  &  Pink,  begging  me  to  name 
an  afternoon  when  it  would  be  convenient  for  me  to  call  at 
their  oflice,  in  order  that  Messrs.  Pink  &  Pink  might  have  the 
honour  of  discussing  with  me  a  matter  of  private  business 
important    to    myself.        I   thought    it    delightfully    exciting, 


202  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

and  wrote  at  once  that  I  would  come  next  day.  I  speculated 
considerably  in  the  meantime  as  to  what  the  important  private 
matter  could  possibly  be — since,  beyond  my  address,  Messrs. 
Pink  &  Pink  knew  nothing  whatever  of  my  circumstances  in 
London — but  did  not  tell  Lady  Torquilin,  for  fear  she  would 
think  she  ought  to  come  with  me,  and  nothing  spoils  an  important 
private  matter  like  a  third  person. 

'  1st  Floor,  Messrs.  Dickson  &  Dawes,  Architects ;  2nd 
Floor,  Norwegian  Life  Insurance  Co.  ;  3rd  floor,  Messrs.  Pink  & 
Pink,  Solicitors,'  read  the  framed  directory  inside  the  door 
in  black  letters  on  a  yellow  ground.  I  looked  round  in  vain  for 
an  elevator-boy,  though  the  narrow,  dark,  little,  twisting 
stairway  was  so  worn  that  I  might  have  known  that  the  pro- 
prietors were  opposed  to  this  innovation.  I  went  from  floor  to 
floor  rejoicing.  .  At  last  I  had  found  a  really  antique  interior  in 
London  ;  there  was  not  a  cobweb  lacking  in  testimony.  It  was 
the  very  first  I  had  come  across  in  my  own  private  investigations, 
and  I  had  expected  them  all  to  be  like  this. 

Four  or  five  clerks  were  writing  at  high  desks  in  the  room 
behind  the  frosted-glass  door  with  '  Pink  &  Pink  '  on  it.  There 
was  a  great  deal  of  the  past  in  this  room  also,  and  in  its  associations 
— impossible  to  realise  in  America — which  I  found  gratifying. 
The  clerks  were  nearly  all  elderly,  for  one  thing — grey-headed 
men.  Since  then  I've  met  curates  of  about  the  same  date. 
The  curates  astonished  me  even  more  than  the  clerks.  A 
curate  is  such  a  perennially  young  person  with  us.  You 
would  find  about  as  many  aged  schoolboys  as  elderly  curates  in 
America.  I  suppose  our  climate  is  more  favourable  to  rapid 
development  than  yours,  and  they  become  full-fledged  clergymen 
or  lawyers  after  a  reasonable  apprenticeship.  If  not,  they  must 
come  within  the  operation  of  some  evolutionary  law  by  which  they 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


203 


disappear.     America  is  a  place  where  there  is  very  little  room 
for  anachronisms. 

Beside  the  elderly  clerks,  the  room  had  an  air  of  old  leather, 
and  three  large  windows  with  yellow  blinds  finned  up — in  these 
days  of  automatic  rollers.  Through  the  windows  I  noticed  the 
cheerful  chimneys  and  spires  of  London,  E.G.,  rising  out  of  that 
lovely  atmospheric  tone  of  yellow  which  is  so  becoming  to  them  ; 
and  down  below — if  I  could  only  have  got  near  enough — 1  am 
certain  I  should  have  seen  a  small  dismantled  graveyard,  with 
mossy  tombstones  of  different  sizes  a  long  way  out  of  the 
perpendicular.  I  have  become  accustomed  to  finding  graveyards 
in  close  connection  with  business  enterprise  in  London,  and  they 
appeal  to  me.  It  is  very  nice  of  you  to 
let  them  stay  just  where  they  were  put 
originally,  when  you  are  so  crowded. 
At  home  there  isn't  a  dead  person  in 
existence,  so  to  speak,  that  would  have 
a  chance  in  a  locality  like  Cheapside. 
And  they  must  suggest  to  you  all  sorts 
of  useful  and  valuable  things  about  the 
futility  of  ambition  and  the  deceitful- 
ness  of  riches  down  there  under  your 
very  noses,  as  it  were,  whenever  you 
pause  to  look  at  them.  I  can  quite 
understand  your  respect  for  them,  even 
in  connection  with  what  E.G.  frontage 
prices  must  be,  and  I  hope,  though 
I  can't  be  sure,  that  there  was  one 
attached  to  the  offices  in  Gheapside  of  Messrs.  Pink  &  Pink. 

The  clerks  all  looked  up  with  an  air  of  inquiry  when  I  went 
in.  and  I  selected  the  only  one  who  did  not  immediately  duck 


WITH  AN  AIR  OF 
INQUIRY  ' 


204  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

to  his  work  again  for  my  interrogation.  It  was  an  awkward 
interrogation  to  make,  and  I  made  it  awkwardly.  '  Are  the 
Mr.  Pinks  in  ? '  I  asked ;  for  I  did  'not  know  in  the  least  how 
many  of  them  wanted  to  see  me. 

*  I  believe  so,  miss,'  said  the  elderly  clerk,  politely,  laying 
down  his  pen.  '  Would  it  be  Mr.  A.  Pink,  or  Mr.  W.  W. 
Pink?' 

I  said  I  really  didn't  know. 

*  Ah !  In  that  case  it  would  be  Mr.  A.  Pink.  Shouldn't 
you  say  so  ?  ' — turning  to  the  less  mature  clerk,  who  responded 
loftily,  from  a  great  distance,  and  without  looking,  '  Probably.' 
Whereupon  the  elderly  one  got  down  from  his  stool,  and  took 
me  himself  to  the  door  with  '  Mr.  A.  Pink '  on  it,  knocked, 
spoke  to  someone  inside,  then  ushered  me  into  the  presence  of 
Mr.  A.  Pink,  and  withdrew. 

The  room,  I  regret  to  say,  did  not  match  its  surroundings, 
and  could  not  have  been  thought  of  in  connection  with  a  grave- 
yard. It  was  quite  modern,  with  a  raised  leather  wall-paper 
and  revolving  chairs.  I  noticed  this  before  I  saw  the  tall,  thin, 
depressed-looking  gentleman  who  had  risen,  and  was  bowing  to 
me,  at  the  other  end  of  it.  He  was  as  bald  as  possible,  and 
might  have  been  fifty,  with  long,  grey  side-whiskers,  that  fell 
upon  a  suit  of  black,  very  much  wrinkled  where  Mr.  Pink  did 
not  fill  it  out.  His  mouth  was  abruptly  turned  down  at  the 
corners,  with  lines  of  extreme  reserve  about  it,  and  whatever 
complexion  he  might  have  had  originally  was  quite  gone,  leaving 
only  a  modified  tone  of  old-gold  behind  it.  '  Dear  me ! '  I 
thought,  '  there  can  be  nothing  interesting  or  mysterious  here.' 

Mr.  Pink  first  carefully  ascertained  whether  I  was  Miss 
Wick,  of  Chicago ;  after  which  he  did  not  shake  hands,  as  I  had 
vaguely  expected  him  to  do,  being  poppa's  solicitor,  but  said, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  205 

*  Pray  be  seated,  Miss  Wick  ! ' — and  we  both  sat  down  in  the 
revolving  chairs,  preserving  an  unbroken  gravity. 

'  You  have  been  in  London  some  weeks,  I  believe,  Miss 
Wick,'  said  Mr.  A.  Pink,  tentatively.  He  did  not  know  quite 
how  long,  because  for  the  first  month  I  had  plenty  of  money, 
without   being   obliged    to    apply    for   it.     1  smiled,  and  said 

*  Yes  ! '  with  an  inflection  of  self-congratulation.  I  was  very 
curious,  but  saw  no  necessity  for  giving  more  information  than 
was  actually  asked  for. 

'  Your — ah — father  wrote  us  that  you  were  coming  over 
alone.  That  must  have  required  great  courage  on  the  part  of — 
here  Mr.  Pink  cleared  his  throat — '  so  young  a  lady  ;  *  and  Mr. 
Pink  smiled  a  little  narrow,  dreary  smile. 

'  Oh,  no  ! '  I  said,  '  it  didn't,  Mr.  Pink.' 

'You  are — ah — quite  comfortable,  I  hope,  in  Cadogan 
Mansions.     I  ilninh  it  is  Cadogan  Mansions,  is  it  not  ? — Yes.' 

'  Very  comfortable  indeed,  thank  you,  Mr.  Pink.  They  are 
comparatively  modern,  and  the  elevator  makes  it  seem  more  or 
less  like  home ' 

Mr.  Pink  brightened  ;  he  evidently  wished  me  to  be  discur- 
sive.    '  Indeed  !  '  he  said — '  Ye-es  ? ' 

'  Yes,'  I  returned  ;  '  when  I  have  time  I  always  use  the 
elevator.' 

'  That  is  not,  I  think,  the  address  of  the  lady  your  father 
mentioned  to  us  as  your  only  relative  in  London,  Miss  Wick  ?* 

'  Oh  no,'  I  responded,  cheerfully  ;  '  Mrs.  Cummers  Portheris 
lives  in  Half-Moon  Street,  Mr.  Pink.' 

'  Ah,  so  I  understand.  Pardon  the  inquiry.  Miss  Wick,  but 
was  there  not  some  expectation  on  your  father's  part  that  you 
would  pass  the  time  of  your  visit  in  London  with  Mrs. 
Portheris  ? ' 


2o6  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  On  all  our  parts,  Mr.  Pink.  But  it  vanished  the  day  after 
I  arrived' — and  I  could  not  help  smiling  as  I  remembered  the 
letter  I  had  written  from  the  Metropole  telling  the  Wick  family 
about  my  reception  by  my  affectionate  relation. 

Mr.  Pink  smiled  too,  a  little  doubtfully  as  well  as  drearily 
this  time.     He  did  not  seem  to  know  quite  how  to  proceed. 

*  Pardon  me  again,  Miss  Wick,  but  there  must  be  occasions, 
I  should  think,  when  you  would  feel  your — ah — comparative 
isolation' — and  Mr.  Pink  let  one  of  his  grey  whiskers  run  through 
his  long,  thin  hand. 

'  Very  seldom,'  I  said  ;  '•  there  is  so  much  to  see  in  London, 
Mr.  Pink.  Even  the  store-windows  are  entertaining  to  a 
stranger ' — and  I  wondered  more  than  ever  what  was  coming. 

'■  I  see — I  see.  You  make  little  expeditions  to  various  points 
of  interest — ^the  Zoological  Gardens,  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  so 
forth.' 

It  began  to  be  like  the  dialogues  in  the  old-fashioned  read- 
ing-books, carefully  marked  '  Q.'  and  '  A.' 

'  Yes,'  I  said,  *  I  do.     I  haven't  seen  the  Zoo  yet,  but  I've 

seen  Mrs.  Por ' ;  there  I  stopped,  knowing  that  Mr.  Pink 

could  not  be  expected  to  perceive  the  sequence  of  my  ideas. 

But  he  seemed  to  conclude  that  he  had  ascertained  as  much 
as  was  necessary.  '  I  think.  Miss  Wick,'  he  said,  *  we  must 
come  to  the  point  at  once.  You  have  not  been  in  England 
long,  and  you  may  or  may  not  be  aware"  of  the  extreme  diffi- 
culty which  attaches — er — to  obtaining — that  is  to  say,  which 
Amer — foreigners  find  in  obtaining  anything  like  a  correct  idea 
of — of  social  institutions  here.  To  a  person,  I  may  say,  with- 
out excellent  introductions,  it  is,  generally  speaking,  impos- 
sible.' 

I  said  I  had  heard  of  this  difficulty. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  JN  LONDON 


207 


'it  bbgaw  to  be  like  the  dialogues  in  the  old-fashioned  reading  books 


2o8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

'  I  do  not  know  whether  you,  personally',  have  any  curiosity 
upon  this  point,  but ' 

I  hastened  to  say  that  I  had  a  great  deal. 

'  But  I  should  say  that  it  was  probable.  There  are  few 
persons  of  your  intelligence,  Miss  Wick,  I  venture  to  hazard,  by 
whom  a  knowledge  of  English  society,  gained  upon  what  might 
be  termed  a  footing  of  intimacy,  would  fail  to  be  appreciated/ 

I  bowed.  It  was  flattering  to  be  thought  intelligent  by  Mr. 
Pink. 

*  The  question  now  resolves  itself,  to  come,  as  I  have  said, 
straight  to  the  point,  Miss  Wick,  into  whether  you  would  or 
would  not  care  to  take  steps  to  secure  it.' 

*  That  would  depend,  I  should  think,  upon  the  nature  of  the 
steps,  Mr.  Pink.  I  may  as  well  ask  you  immediately  whether 
they  have  anything  to  do  with  Miss  Purkiss.' 

^  Nothing  whatever — nothing  whatever  ! '  Mr.  Pink  hastened 
to  assure  me.  '  I  do  not  know  the  lady.  The  steps  which 
have  recommended  themselves  to  me  for  you  w^ould  be  taken 
upon  a — upon  a  basis  of  mutual  accommodation,  Miss  Wick, 
involving  remuneration,  of  course,  upon  your  side.' 

*  Oh  ! '  said  I,  comprehend ingly. 

'And  in  connection  with  a  client  of  our  own — an  old,  and,  I 
may  say,  a  highly-es^eeme^Z ' — and  Mr.  Pink  made  a  little 
respectful  forward  inclination  of  his  neck — *  client  of  our  own.' 

I  left  the  burden  of  explanation  wholly  to  Mr.  Pink,  content- 
ing myself  with  looking  amiable  and  encouraging. 

'  A  widow  of  Lord  Bandobust,'  said  Mr.  Pink,  with  an  eye 
to  the  effect  of  this  statement.  The  effect  was  bad — I  could 
not  help  wondering  how  many  Lord  Bandobust  had,  and  said, 
'  Really ! '  with  an  effort  to  conceal  it. 

'  Lady  Bandobust,  somewhat  late  in  life — this,  of  course,  is 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


209 


confidential,  Miss  Wick — finds  herself  in  a  position  to — to  ap- 
preciate any  slight  addition  to  her  income.  His  lordship's 
rather  peculiar  will — but  I  need  not  go  into  that.     It  is,  perhaps, 


I   WAS    TAKEN    BY    SURPRISE 


sufficient  to  say  that  Lady  Bandobust  is  in  a  position  to  give 
you  every  advantage,  Miss  Wick — every  advantage.' 

This    was    fascinating,    and  I    longed   to    hear    more.     '  It 
9eema  a  little  indefinite,'  said  I  to  Mr.  Pink. 


2IC  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

'  It  does,  certainly — you  are  quite  right,  Miss  Wick — it  does. 
Beyond  approaching  you,  however,  and  ascertaining  your  views, 
I  am  not  instructed  to  act  in  the  matter.  Ascertaining  your 
views  in  particular,  I  should  say,  as  regards  the  sum  mentioned 
by  Lady  Bandobust  as  a — a  proper  equivalent — ahem  ! ' 

*  What  is  her  ladyship's  charge  ?  *  I  inquired. 

*  Lady  Bandobust  would  expect  three  hundred  pounds.  My 
client  wishes  it  to  be  understood  that  in  naming  this  figure  she 
takes  into  consideration  the  fact  that  the  season  is  already  well 
opened,'  Mr.  Pink  said.  '  Of  course,  additional  time  must  be 
allowed  to  enable  you  to  write  to  your  parents ' 

'  I  see,'  I  said  ;  '  it  does  not  strike  me  as  exorbitant,  Mr. 
Pink,  considering  what  Lady  Bandobust  has  to  sell.' 

Mr.  Pink  smiled  rather  uncomfortably.  *You  Americans 
are  so  humorous,'  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at  affability. 
'  Well ' — drawing  both  whiskers  through  his  hand  conclusively, 
and  suddenly  standing  up — '  will  you  step  this  way,  Miss  Wick  ? 
My  client  has  done  me  the  honour  of  calling  in  person  about 
this  matter,  and  as  your  visits,  oddly  enough,  coincide,  you  will 
be  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  going  into  details  with  her.'  And 
Mr.  A.  Pink  opened  the  door  leading  into  the  room  of  Mr.  W. 
W.  Pink.  I  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  am  afraid  I  should 
have  gone  in  even  after  time  for  mature  deliberation,  I  was  so 
deeply,  though  insincerely,  interested  in  the  details. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


211 


XX 


ADY    BANDOBUST,    may 

I  have  the  honour  of  in- 
troducing Miss  Wick,  of 
Chicago?'  said  Mr.  Pink, 
polemnly,  bowing  as  if  he 
himself  were  being  introduced 
to  somebody.  '  I  could  not  do 
better,  I  am  sure,  Miss  Wick, 
than  leave  you  in  Lady  Bando- 
bust's  hands  ' — with  which 
master-stroke  of  politeness  Mr. 
Pink  withdrew,  leaving  me, 
as  he  said,  in  Lady  Bando- 
bust's  hands.  She  was  a  little 
old  woman  in  black,  with 
sharp  eyes,  a  rather  large, 
hooked  nose,  and  a  discon- 
tented mouth,  over  which 
hovered  an  expression  of  being  actively  bored.  She  had  sloping 
shoulders,  and  little  thin  fingers  in  gloves  much  too  long  for 
them,  and  her  bonnet  dated  back  five  seasons.  Her  whole 
appearance,  without  offering  any  special  point  for  criticism, 
suggested  that  appreciation  of  any  pecuniary  advantage  of  which 
Mr.  Pink  had  spoken,  though  her  manner  gave  me  definitely  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

understand  that  she  did  not  care  one  jot  about  it.     She  was 
looking  out  of  the  window  when  Mr.  Pink  and  I  came  in,  and 


'LADY   BANDOBUST' 


after  acknowledging  my  bow  with  a  small  perfunctory  smile,  a 
half-effort  to  rise,  and  a  vague  vertebral  motion  at  the  back  of 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  213 

her  neck,  slie  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  I  am  convinced 
that  there  was  nothing  in  the  view  that  could  possibly  interest 
her,  yet  constantly,  in  the  course  of  our  conversation.  Lady 
Bandobust  looked  out  of  the  window.  She  was  the  most  un- 
interested person  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  talking  to  in 
England. 

I  said  it  was  a  lovely  day. 

*  Yes,'  said  Lady  Bandobust.  '  Mr.  Pink  tells  me  you  are  an 
American,  Miss  Wick,  though  anybody  could  see  that  much. 
He  knows  your  father,  I  believe  ?  ' 

'  Not  personally,  I  think,'  I  returned.  ^  Poppa  has  never 
visited  England,  Lady  Bandobust.' 

'  Perhaps  we  had  better  say  "  financially,"  then — knows  him 
financially.' 

'  I  daresay  that  is  all  that  is  necessary,'  I  said,  innocently  at 
the  time,  though  I  have  since  understood  Lady  Bandobust's 
reason  for  looking  at  me  so  sharply. 

*  You  come  from  Chincliinnatti,  I  understand  from  Mr.  Pink,* 
she  continued. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  Oh,  Cincinatti !  No,  from  Chicago, 
Lady  Bandobust.' 

'  1  understood  from  Mr.  Pink  that  you  came  from  Chinchin- 
natti — the  place  where  people  make  millions  in  tinned  pork.  I 
had  a  nephew  there  for  seven  years,  so  I  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  it,'  said  Lady  Bandobust,  with  some  asperity.  '  But 
if  you  say  you  are  from  Chickago,  I  have  no  doubt  you  are 
right.' 

'  Mr.  Pink  informed  me,'  continued  Lady  Bandobust,  '  that 
he  thought  you  might  feel  able  to  afford  to  see  a  little  of  English 
society.  I've  noticed  that  Americans  generally  like  to  do  that 
if  they  can.' 


SHE    WAS    THE    MOST    UXIXTKRK8TED    PEKSON    I    HAVj:    II.VI)    THE    PLEASUKJi    OP 
TALKING    TO    IN    ENGLAND.' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  215 

T  said  I  was  sure  it  would  be  interesting. 

'  It  is  very  difficult,'  said  Lady  Bandobust — *  extremely 
difficult.  It  is  impossible  that  you  should  know  how  difficult 
it  is.' 

I  remarked  modestly,  by  way  of  reply,  that  I  believed  few 
things  worth  having  were  easy  to  get. 

Lady  Bandobust  ignored  the  generalisation.  *  As  Mr.  Pink 
has  probably  told  you,  it  costs  money,'  said  she,  with  another 
little  concessive  smile. 

'  Then,  perhaps,  it  is  not  so  difficult  after  all,'  I  replied, 
amiably. 

Lady  Bandobust  gave  me  another  sharp  look.  '  Only  you 
rich  Americans  can  afford  to  say  that,'  she  said.  '  But  Mr.  Pink 
has  told  me  that  the  expense  would  in  all  likelihood  be  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  your  people.     That,  of  course,  is  important.' 

*  Poppa  doesn't  scrimp,'  I  said.  *  He  likes  us  to  have  a  good 
time.' 

*  Regardless,'  said  Lady  Bandobust — '  regardless  of  the  cost ! 
That  is  very  liberal.' 

*  Americans,'  she  went  on,  '  in  English  society  are  very 
fortunate.  They  are  always  considered  as — as  Americans,  you 
understand ' 

'  I'm  afraid  I  don't,'  said  I. 

'  And  I  think,  on  the  whole,  they  are  rather  liked.  Yes 
generally  speaking,  I  think  I  may  say  they  are  liked.' 

I  tried  to  express  my  gratification. 

'  As  a  rule,'  said  Lady  Bandobust,  absently,  '  they  spend  so 
much  money  in  England.' 

'  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  advantages  of  an  experience 
of  English  society,'  she  continued,  rather  as  if  I  had  suggested 
one.     *  To  a  young  lady  especially  it  is  invaluable — it  leads  to 
15 


2t6  an  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

so  much.     I  don't  know  quite  to  what  extent  you  would  ex- 
pect  '     Here  Lady  Bandobust  paused,  as  if  waiting  for  data 

on  which  to  proceed. 

'  I  would  expect ? '  I  repeated,  not  quite  understanding. 

*  But  I  think  I  could  arrange  a  certain  number  of  balls,  say 
four ;  one  or  two  dinners — you  wouldn't  care  much  about  dinners, 
though,  I  dare  say ;  a  few  good  "  at  homes  " ;  a  Saturday  or  so  at 
Hurlingham — possibly  Ascot ;  but,  of  course,  you  know  every- 
thing would  depend  upon  yourself.* 

*  I  could  hardly  expect  you  to  make  me  enjoy  myself.  Lady 
Bandobust,'  I  said.  '  That  altogether  depends  upon  one's 
own  capacity  for  pleasure,  as  you  say.' 

'  Oh,  altogether ! '  she  returned.  *  Well,  we  might  say  six 
balls — thoroughly  good  ones ' — and  Lady  Bandobust  looked  at 
me  .for  a  longer  time  together  than  she  had  yet — '  and  possibly 
the  Royal  Inclosure  at  Ascot.  I  say  "  possibly  "  because  it  is 
very  difficult  to  get.  And  a  house-party  to  finish  up  with,  -which 
really  ought  to  be  extra,  as  it  doesn't  properly  belong  to  a 
London  season ;  but  if  I  can  at  all  see  my  way  to  it,'  Lady 
Bandobust  went  on,  *  I'll  put  it  into  the  three  hundred.  There 
are  the  Allspices,  who  have  just  bought  Lord  Frereton's  place 
in  Wilts — I  could  take  anyhodj  there ! ' 

'  Your  friends  must  be  very  obliging.  Lady  Bandobust,' 
said  I. 

*  The  Private  View  is  over,'  said  Lady  Bandobust ;  '  but 
there  is  the  Academy  Soiree  in  June,  and  the  Royal  Colonial 
Institute,  tind  a  few  things  like  that.' 

^  It  sounds  charming,'  I  remarked. 

'  We  might  do  something  about  the  Four-in-hand/   I^ady 
Bandobust  continued,  with  some  impatience. 
'Yes?'  I  said. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  217 

Tliere  was  a  pause,  in  which  I  cast  about  me  for  some  way 
of  escape.  I  felt  that  my  interest  in  Lady  Bandobust  was 
exhausted,  and  that  I  could  not  pretend  to  entertain  her  scheme 
any  longer  with  self-respect.  Besides,  by  this  time  I  cordially 
hated  her.  But  I  could  think  of  no  formula  to  retreat  under, 
and  resigned  myself  to  sit  there  helplessly,  and  defend  myself  as 
best  I  could,  until  I  was  dismissed. 

Lady  Bandobust  produced  her  last  card.  *  The  Duchess  of 
Dadlington  gives  2,  fete  on  the  twelfth,'  she  said,  throwing  it,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  table.  '  I  should  probably  be  able  to  take  you 
there.' 

'  The  Duchess  of  Dudlington  ? '  said  I,  in  pure  stupidity. 

^  Yes.  And  she  is  rather  partial  to  Americans,  for  some 
extraordinary  reason  or  another.'  The  conversation  flagged 
again. 

'  Presentation — if  that  is  what  you  are  thinking  of — would 
be  extra,  Miss  Wick,'  Lady  Bandobust  stated,  firmly. 

'  Oh  ^ — how  much  extra,  Lady  Bandobust  ?  * 

My  prospective  patroness  did  not  hesitate  a  minute.  *  Fifty 
pounds,'  she  said,  and  looked  at  me  inquiringly. 

'  I — I  don't  think  I  was  thinking  of  it.  Lady  Bandobust,' 
I  said.     I  felt  mean,  as  we  say  in  America. 

'  You  were  not!  Well,'  said  she,  judicially,  ^I  don't  know 
that  I  would  advise  the  outlay.  It  is  a  satisfactory  thing  to 
have  done,  of  course,  but  not  nearly  so  essential  as  it  used  to  be 
— nothing  like.  You  can  get  on  without  it.  And,  as  you  say, 
fifty  pounds  is  fifty  pounds.' 

I  knew  I  hadn't  said  that,  but  found  it  impossible  to  assert 
the  fact. 

'  Miss  Benin  gsbill,  whom  I  took  out  last  season,  I  did  pre- 
sent,' Lady  Bandobust  continued  ;  *  but  she  went  in  for  every- 


2i8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

thing — perhaps  more  extensively  than  you  would  be  disposed  to 
do.  It  might  facilitate  matters — give  you  an  idea,  perhaps — if 
I  were  to  tell  you  my  arrangements  with  Miss  Boningsbill.' 

*  I  should  like  to  hear  them,'  I  said. 

*  She  did  not  live  with  me — of  course,  chaperonage  does  not 
imply  residence,  you  understand  that.  When  she  went  out  with 
me  she  called  for  me  in  her  brougham.  She  had  a  brougham 
by  the  month,  and  a  landau  for  the  park.  I  should  distinctly 
advise  you  to  do  the  same.  I  would,  in  fact,  make  the  arrange- 
ment for  you.  I  know  a  very  reliable  man.'  Lady  Bandobust 
paused  for  my  thanks. 

'  Generally  speaking,  Miss  Boningsbill  and  I  went  out  to- 
gether; but  when  I  found  this  particularly  inconvenient,  she 
took  one  carriage  and  I  the  other,  though  she  always  had  her 
choice.  I  stipulated  only  to  take  her  to  the  park  twice  a 
week,  but  if  nothing  interfered  I  went  oftener.  Occasionally  I 
took  her  to  the  play — that  bores  me,  though.  I  hope  you  are 
not  particularly  fond  of  the  theatre.  And  then  she  usually  found 
it  less  expensive  to  get  a  box,  as  there  were  generally  a  few  other 
people  who  could  be  asked  with  advantage — friends  of  my  own/ 

'  She  had  a  box  at  Ascot,  too,  of  course,'  Lady  Bandobust 
went  on,  looking  down  her  nose  at  a  fly  in  the  corner  of  tha 
window-pane ;    '  but  that  is  a  matter  of  detail.' 

'  Of  course,'  I  said,  because  I  could  think  of  nothing  else 
to  say. 

'1  gave  her  a  ball,'  Lady  Bandobust  continued;  'that  is  t<o 
say,  cards  were  sent  out  in  my  name.  That  was  rather  bungled, 
though — so  many  friends  of  mine  begged  for  invitations  for 
friends  of  theirs  that  I  didn't  know  half  the  people.  And  Miss 
Boningsbill,  of  course,  knew  nobody.  Miss  Boningsbill  was  dis- 
satisfied about  the  cost,  too.     I  was  foolish  enough  to  forget  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  219 

tell  her  beforehand.  Everything  came  from  my  own  particular 
tradespeople,  and,  naturally,  nothing  was  cheap.  I  never  niggle,' 
said  Lady  Bandobust,  turning  her  two  little  indifferent  black 
eyes  full  upon  me. 

'  Miss  Boningsbili  insisted  on  having  her  name  on  the  cards 
as  well,'  she  said :  '  "  Lady  Bandobust  and  Miss  Boningsbili," 
you  understand.  That  I  should  not  advise — very  bad  form,  1 
call  it.' 

^  She  was  married  in  October,'  Lady  Bandobust  continued, 
casually.  The  second  son  of  Sir  Banbury  Slatte — the  eldest 
had  gone  abroad  for  his  health.  I  knew  the  Banbury  Slattes 
extremely  well — excellent  family.' 

'  Miss  Boningsbili,'  Lady  Bandobust  went  on,  absently,  '  had 
nothing  like  your  figure.' 

'  Was  she  an  American  ?  '  I  asked. 

*No — Manchester,'  answered  Lady  Bandobust,  laconically. 
'  Cotton-spinners.' 

'My  dressmaker  tells  me  she  finds  a  marked  difference 
between  English  and  American  figures,'  I  remarked ;  '  but  I  am 
afraid  it  is  not  to  our  advantage.  We  are  not  nearly  so  fine  as 
you  are.' 

'  Ah ! '  said  Lady  Bandobust.  *  Who  is  your  dressmaker  ? 
she  asked  with  interest. 

'  I  spoke  of  the  firm  whose  place  of  business,  though  not 
mentioned  in  any  guide-book,  I  had  found  to  repay  many  visits. 
*  Oh,  those  people !  '  said  Lady  Bandobust.  '  Dear,  I  call 
them.  Smart  enough  for  evening  frocks,  but  certainly  not  to 
be  depended  upon  for  anything  else.  I  should  strongly  advise 
you  to  try  Miss  Pafty,  in  Regent  Street,  and  say  I  sent  you. 
And  for  millinery,  do  let  me  recommend  Madame  Marie.  I 
would  give  you  a  note  to  her.     An  excessively  clever  woman — - 


220  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

personal  friend  of  my  own.  A  husband  and  two  sons  to  support, 
so  she  makes  bonnets.  I  believe  the  Princess  goes  to  her 
regularly.  And  you  pay  very  little  more  than  you  do  any- 
where else.  And  now,  v;ith  regard  to  our  little  scheme,  what  do 
you  think.  Miss  Wick  ?  ' 

^  Really,  Lady  Bandobust,'  said  I,  '  I  am  afraid  I  must  think 
about  it.'  A  decided  negative  was  an  utter  impossibility  at  the 
time. 

*Ah!'  said  Lady  Bandobust,  'perhaps  you  think  my  terms 
!i  little  high — just  a  trifle  more  than  you  expected,  perhaps. 
Well,  suppose  we  say  two  hundred  and  fifty  ? ' 

'  I  had  no  expectations  whatever  about  it.  Lady  Bandobust,' 
I  said  ;  *  I  knew  nothing  of  it  up  to  about  an  hour  ago.' 

'  Two  hundred,'  said  Lady  Bandobust. 

*  I  am  afraid  I  have  no  idea  of  the  value  of — of  such  things, 
Lady  Bandobust,'  I  faltered. 

'I  can  bring  it  as  low  as  one  hundred  and  fifty,'  she 
returned,  '  but  it  would  not  be  quite  the  same,  Miss  Wick — you 
could  not  expect  that.' 

•  .••••• 

The  rest  of  the  conversation,  which  I  find  rather  painful  to 
call  to  memory,  may  perhaps  be  imagined  from  the  fact  that 
Lady  Bandobust  finally  brought  her  offer  down  to  seventy-five 
pounds,  at  which  point  I  escaped,  taking  her  address,  promising 
to  write  her  my  decision  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  and  feel- 
ing more  uncomfortably  contemptible  than  ever  before  in  my 
life.  We  happened  to  be  making  visits  in  Park  Lane  next  day, 
and  as  Lady  Bandobust  lived  near  there,  I  took  the  note  mysell*, 
thinking  it  would  be  more  polite.  And  I  found  the  locality,  in 
spite  of  its  vicinity  to  Park  Lane,  quite  extraordinary  for  Lady 
Bandobust  to  have  apartments  in. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  221 

I  met  Lady  Bandobust  once  again.  It  was  at  an  *  at  home ' 
given  by  Lord  and  Lady  Mafferton,  where  everybody  was  asked 
'  to  meet '  a  certain  distinguished  traveller.  Oddly  enough,  I 
was  introduced  to  her,  and  we  had  quite  a  long  chat.  But  I 
noticed  that  she  had  not  caught  my  name  as  my  hostess  pro- 
nounced it — she  called  me  '  Miss  Winter  '  during  the  whole  of 
our  conversation,  and  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  we  had 
ever  seen  each  other  before  ;  which  was  disagreeable  of  her,  in 
my  opinion. 


222  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XXI 

I  WENT  to  Ascot  with  the  Bangley  Coffins— Mr.,  Mrs.,  and  the 
two  Misses  Bangley  Coffin.  I  didn't  know  the  Bangley 
Coffins  very  well,  but  they  were  kind  enough  to  ask  Lady  Tor- 
quilin  if  I  might  go  with  them,  and  Lady  Torquilin  con- 
sented with  alacrity.  ^  You  couldnH  go  away  from  England 
without  seeing  Ascot,'  said  she.  *  It  would  be  a  sin  !  It's  far 
too  much  riot  for  me ;  besides,  I  can't  bear  to  see  the  wretched 
horses.  If  they  would  only  learn  to  race  without  beating  the 
poor  beasties !  To  say  nothing  of  the  expense,  which  I  call 
enormous.  So  by  all  means  go  with  the  Bangley  Coffins,  child 
— they're  lively  people — I  daresay  you'll  enjoy  yoarself.' 

Lady  Torquilin  was  surprised  and  disappointed,  however, 
when  she  learned  that  the  party  would  go  by  train.  *  I  wonder 
at  them,'  she  said,  referring  to  the  Bangley  Coffins ;  *  they  know 
such  a  lot  of  people.  I  would  have  said  they  were  morally  cer- 
tain to  be  on  somebody's  drag.  Shall  you  care  to  go  by  train  ?  ' 
Whereupon  I  promptly  assured  Lady  Torquilin  that  I  was  only 
too  happy  to  go  any  way. 

So  we  started,  the  morning  of  the  Gold  Cup  day,  I  and  the 
Bangley  Coffins.  I  may  as  well  describe  the  Bangley  Coffins,  in 
the  hope  that  they  may  help  to  explain  my  experiences  at  Ascot. 
I  have  to  think  of  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  very  often  myself,  when 
I  try  to  look  back  intelligently  upon  our  proceedings. 

Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  was  tall,  with  a  beautiful  figure  and  pale 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  223 

gold  hair.  The  Misses  Bangley  Coffin  were  also  tall,  with 
prospectively  beautiful  figures  and  pale  gold  hair.  I  never  saw 
such  a  resemblance  between  mother  and  daughters  as  there  was 
between  the  Misses  Bangley  Coffin  and  their  mamma.  They  sat 
up  in  the  same  way,  their  shoulders  had  the  same  slope,  their 
elbows  the  same  angle.  The  same  lines  developed  on  the 
countenance  of  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  were  undeveloped  on  the 
countenances  of  the  Misses  Bangley  Coffin.  Except  in  some 
slight  matter  of  nose  or  eyes,  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  hardly  suggested 
himself  in  either  of  the  young  ladies.  W^®^  ^^1  spoke,  it  was 
in  their  mother's  voice  and  in  their  mother's  manner — a  manner 
that  impressed  you  for  the  moment  as  being  the  only  one  in  the 
world.  Both  they  and  their  mamma  had  on  dresses  which  it 
was  perfectly  evident  they  had  never  worn  before,  and  of  which 
they  demanded  my  opinion  with  a  frankness  that  surprised  me. 

*  What  do  you  think,'  said  they,  '  of  our  Ascot  frocks  ? '  I 
admired  them  very  much;  they  represented,  amongst  them, 
nearly  all  the  fashionable  novelties,  and  yet  they  had  a  sort  of 
conventional  originality,  if  I  may  say  such  a  thing,  which  was 
extremely  striking.  They  seemed  satisfied  with  my  applause,  but 
promptly  fell  upon  me  for  not  meriting  applause  myself.  '  We 
saw  you,'  they  said  unitedly,  ^  in  that  frock  last  Sunday  in  the 
park ! ' — and  there  was  a  distinct  reproach  in  the  way  they  said 
it.  '  It's  quite  charming ! '  they  assured  me — and  it  was — '  but 
it's  not  as  if  you  hadn't  quantities  of  them  !  Do  you  mean  to  say 
Lady  Torquilin  didn't  tell  you  you  ought  to  have  a  special  frock 
for  Ascot  ?*     *  She  said  I  should  do  very  well  in  this,'  I  declared, 

*  and  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to  buy  another  ;  I  had  much  better 
give  the  money  to  Dr.  Barnardo  ! '  Whereat  Mrs.  Bangley 
Coffin  and  the  two  Misses  Bangley  Coffin  looked  at  one  another 
and  remarked,  ^  How  like  Lady  Torquilin ! ' 


224 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


'  I  didn't  give  it  to  Dr.  Barnardo,'  I  continued — to  which 
Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  rejoined,  in  parenthesis,  '  I  should  hope 
not ' — '  but  I'm  glad  Lady  Torquilin  did  not  advise  me  to  get 
an  Ascot  frock,  though  yours  are  very  pretty.  I  feel  that  I 
couldn't  have  sustained  one — I  haven't  the  personality  ! '  And 
indeed  this  was  quite  true.  It  occurred  to  me  often  again 
through  the  day ;  I  could  not  have  gone  about  inside  an  Ascot 
frock  without  feeling  to  some  extent  the  helpless  and  meaning- 
less victim  of  it.  The  Bangley  Coffin  girls  thought  this  supreme 
nonsense,  and  declared  that  I  could  carry  anything  off,  and  Mrs. 

Bangley  Coffin  said, 


with  pretended  se- 
verity, that  it  was 
not  a  question  of 
feeling  but  of  look- 
ing ;  but  they  united 
in  consoling  me  so 
successfully  that  I 
at  last  believed  my- 
self dressed  to  per- 
fection for  Ascot — 
if  I  had  only  worn 
something  else  to 
the  park  the  Sun- 
day before ! 

The  husband 
and  father  of  the 
Bangley  Coffins  was 


MR.    BANGLEY    COFFIN . 


a  short,  square- 
shouldered  gentleman  with  bushy  eyebrows,  a  large  mous- 
tache, plaid  trousers,  and  a  grey  tail-coat   that   was   a   very 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  225 

tight  fit  round  the  waist.  He  had  an  expression  of  deep 
sagacity,  and  he  took  from  an  inner  pocket,  and  fondled  now 
and  then,  a  case  containing  six  very  large  brown  cigars.  His 
look  of  peculiar  anticipative  intelligence,  combined  with  the 
cigars,  gave  me  the  idea  that  we  should  not  be  overburdened 
with  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin's  society  during  the  day — which  proved 
to  be  a  correct  one. 

It  did  not  seem  to  me,  in  spite  of  what  Lady  Torquilin  had 
said,  that  it  was  at  all  unpopular  to  go  to  Ascot  by  rail.  Trains 
were  leaving  the  station  every  four  or  five  minutes,  all  full  of 
people  who  preferred  that  way  of  going;  and  our  own  car, 
which  w^as  what,  I  believe,  you  call  a  *  saloon  carriage,'  had 
hardly  an  empty  seat.  They  looked  nice  respectable  people, 
too,  nearly  all  in  Ascot  frocks,  though  not  perhaps  particularly 
interesting.  What  surprised  me  in  connection  with  the  ride 
was  the  length  of  it ;  it  was  not  a  ride,  as  I  had  somehow 
expected,  of  twenty  minutes  or  half  an  hour  from  London,  but 
a  journey  of,  I  forget  how  many,  interminable  hours.  And  what 
surprised  me  in  connection  with  the  people  was  their  endurance 
of  it.  They  did  not  fuss,  or  grow  impatient,  or  consult  their 
watches  as  the  time  dragged  by  ;  they  sat  up,  calm  and  placid 
and  patient,  and  only  looked  occasionally,  for  refreshment,  at 
their  Ascot  frocks.  They  seemed  content  to  take  an  enormous 
amount  of  trouble  for  the  amusement  which  might  be  supposed 
to  be  tickling  their  fancy  at  the  other  end  of  the  trip  — if  there 
was  any  other  end — to  take  it  unshrinkingly  and  seriously. 
It  gave  me  an  idea  of  how  difficult  it  is  to  be  amused  in  England 
— unless  you  are  a  foreigner.  Ascot  to  them  was  no  light 
matter,  and  to  me  it  was  such  a  very  light  matter.  I  tried  to 
imagine  any  fifty  Americans  of  my  acquaintance  dressing  up  in 
their  best  clothes,  and  sperding  six  or  seveu  hours  of  a  day 


226  AM  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

in  protracted  railway  journeys,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  fun  in 
between  ;  and  I  failed.  It's  as  much  as  we  would  do  to  inaugu- 
rate a  president,  or  bury  a  general  who  saved  the  Union. 
We  would  consider  the  terras  high.  But,  of  course,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  me  to  say  how  we  might  behave  if  we  had  Distinguished 
Occasions,  with  Royal  Inclosures  inside  them. 

We  started  with  a  sense  of  disappointment,  which  seemed 
to  come  in  through  the  windows  and  envelop  the  Bangley 
Coffins,  because  '  some  people '  they  had  expected  failed  to 
appear  upon  the  platform.  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  looked  par- 
ticularly depressed.  '  Don't  see  how  the  deuce  we're  going  to 
arrange  ! '  he  said  to  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  with  unction.  '  Oh, 
there's  sure  to  be  somebody,  Joey,  love ! '  she  returned,  cheer- 
fully ;  '  and  in  any  case,  you  see,  we  have  you.'  To  which  Mr. 
Bangley  Coffin  gave  a  dubious  and  indistinct  assent.  I  did 
not  get  on  well  with  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin.  He  seemed  to  mean 
well,  but  he  had  a  great  many  phrases  which  I  did  not  in  the 
least  understand,  and  to  which  he  invariably  added,  '  As  you 
say  in  America.'  It  was  never  by  any  chance  a  thing  we  did 
say  in  America,  but  nothing  could  make  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin 
believe  that.  I  can't  say  that  we  had  much  general  conversa- 
tion either,  but  in  what  there  was  I  noticed  great  good-feeling 
between  the  Misses  Bangley  Coffins  and  their  mamma. 

*  The  bonnet  of  that  Israelite  at  the  other  end  of  the 
carriage  wo7jld  suit  you  to  a  "  T ",  mummie,'  one  of  them  re- 
marked in  joke.  The  bonnet  was  a  terrible  affair,  in  four  shades 
of  heliotrope. 

'Yes,'  replied  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  smiling  quite  good- 
naturedly  ;  '  that's  about  my  form.' 

The  Bangley  Coffins  were  all  form.  Form,  for  them,  regu- 
lated existence.     It  was  the  all-compelling  law  of  the  spheres, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  227 

the  test  of  all  human  action  and  desire.  '  Good  form '  was  the 
ultimate  expression  of  their  respect, '  bad  form '  their  final  decla- 
ration of  contempt.  Perhaps  I  should  misjudge  the  Bangley 
Coffins  if  I  said  form  was  their  conscience,  and  I  don't  want  to  mis- 
judge them — they  were  very  pleasant  to  me.  But  1  don't  think 
they  would  have  cared  to  risk  their  eternal  salvation  upon  any 
religious  tenets  that  were  not  entirely  comme  ilfaut — I  mean 
the  ladies  Bangley  Coffin.  The  head  of  their  house  twisted  his 
moustache  and  seemed  more  or  less  indifferent. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  in  the  end,  we  did  get  to  Ascot,  and 
left  our  dust-cloaks  in  charge  of  that  obliging  middle-aged  person 
who  is  to  be  found  in  every  ladies'  waiting-room  in  England. 
There  was  some  discussion  as  to  whether  we  should  or  should 
not  leave  our  dust-cloaks  with  her — they  were  obviously  unbe- 
coming, but,  obviously  also,  it  might  rain.  However,  in  the 
end  we  did.  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  thought  we  might  trust  to 
Providence,  and  Providence  proved  itself  worthy  of  Mrs.  Bangley 
Coffin's  confidence. 

Again,  as  we  joined  the  crowd  that  surged  out  of  the  station, 
I  noticed  that  look  of  anxious  expectancy  on  the  face  of  the 
Bangley  Coffin  family.  It  was  keener  than  before,  and  all- 
embracing.  I  even  fancied  I  noticed  an  understood  division  of 
survey — an  arrangement  by  which  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  looked 
to  the  north,  and  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  to  the  south,  one  young 
lady  to  the  east,  and  the  other  to  the  west.  '  We  really  must 
keep  an  eye  open,'  said  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin.  '  Coming  this  way  ? 
Oh !  Hullo,  Pipply,  old  man  !  H'are  you  ? '  with  extreme  cor- 
diality, to  a  short,  very  stout  gentleman  in  grey,  with  a  pink  face 
and  a  hooked  nose,  and  a  white  moustache,  and  a  blue-spotted 
necktie — a  New  Yorker,  I  was  sure,  before  he  spoke.  Pipply 
responded   with   very  moderate    transports,  and   shook   hands 


228  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

hastily  with  the  ladies  attached  to  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin.  'Mrs. 
Pipply's  with  you,  I  see/  continued  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin,  joyously, 
'  and  that  charming  sister  of  hers !  Kitty,  we  must  see  whether 
they  have  forgotten  us,  mustn't  we  ? ' — and  he  and  Kitty  advanced 
upon  two  very  much-accented  fair  ladies  in  frilled  muslins  and 
large  flowery  hats.  They  were  dressed  as  fashionably  as  Bond 
Street  could  dress  them,  and  they  were  as  plump  and  pretty  as 
could  be,  but  perhaps  just  a  little  too  big  and  blue  of  eye  and 
pink-and-white  of  complexion  quite  to  satisfy  the  Bangley  Coffin 
idea  of  '  form.'  It  would  be  difficult  to  account  otherwise  for 
what  they  did.  For  the  Pipplys,  they  were  very  amiable,  but, 
as  you  might  say,  at  bay ;  and  after  reproaching  the  Bangley 
Coffins  with  having  never,  never,  never  come  to  see  them,  after 
promising  solemnly  to  do  so  at  Cannes,  where  they  had  all  had 
such  a  good  time  together,  Mrs.  Pipply  proceeded  to  say  that 
she  didn't  know  whether  we  were  driving — if  not,  they  had  room 
for  one^  and  we  might  arrange  to  meet  again  somewhere.  '  How 
good  of  you  !  *  said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  and  looked  at  her  two 
daughters.  '  We're  really  obliged  to  you,'  said  Mr.  Bangley 
Coffin,  and  bent  a  gaze  of  strong  compulsion  upon  his  wife. 
The  young  ladies  smiled,  hesitated,  and  looked  at  me.  I  couldn't 
go.  I  had  not  even  been  introduced.  There  was  an  awkward 
pause — the  kind  of  pause  you  never  get  out  of  England — and 
as  the  Pipplys,  rather  huffed  and  rather  in  a  hurry,  were  moving 
off,  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  covered  their  retreat,  as  it  were,  with 
the  unblushing  statement  that  she  was  afraid  we  must  try  to 
keep  our  little  party  together.  And  we  lost  the  Pipplys ;  where- 
upon Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  regarded  his  family  with  the  air  of  a 
disciplinarian.  '  They're  certain  to  be  on  a  drag,'  said  he,  '  and 
no  end  of  Pipply's  clubs  have  tents.  Why  didn't  one  of  you  go  ? 
Not  classy  enough,  eh  ? '      Whereupon  they  all  with  one  accord 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  229 

began  to  make  excuse,  after  which  we  walked  on  in  a  troubled 
silence.  It  was  very  dusty  and  very  steep,  that  narrow  hill  that 
so  many  people  find  fortune  at  the  top  or  ruin  at  the  bottom  of, 
leading  to  the  heart  of  Ascot.  But  the  day  had  brightened,  and 
the  people — all  going  uphill — were  disposed  to  be  merry,  and 
two  one-armed  sailors  sat  in  the  sun  by  the  side  of  the  road 
singing  ballads  and  shouting,  '  Good  luck  to  you,  ladies ! '  so 
that  my  spirits  gradually  rose.  I  didn't  see  how  I  could  help 
enjoying  myself. 

'  I  always  think  it's  such  a  frightful  charge  for  admission  to 
the  Grand  Stand,'  said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  as  we  walked  up 
the  arboreal  approach  to  it.  ^  A  sovereign  !  Of  course,  they 
have  to  do  it,  you  know,  to  keep  the  mob  out ;  but  really,  when 
one  thinks  of  it,  it  is  too  much  !  ' 

I  thought  this  a  real  kindness  of  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  because 
if  I  had  not  known  it  was  so  much  1  might  have  let  Mr.  Bangley 
Coffin  pay  for  my  ticket  too. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  disappeared. 
He  launched  us,  as  it  were,  upon  the  crowded  terrace  in  front  of 
the  Grand  Stand,  where  at  every  turn  the  Misses  Bangley  Coffin 
expected  to  see  a  man  they  knew.  He  remained  semi-detached 
and  clinging  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  coming  up  with  an 
agreeable  criticism  upon  a  particular  costume,  darting  ofi"  again 
to  talk  to  a  large,  calm  man  with  an  expansive  checked  shirt-front 
and  a  silk  hat  well  on  the  back  of  his  head,  who  carried  a  note- 
book. Then,  once,  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  addressed  him,  think- 
ing him  behind  her.  '  Joey,  love  ! '  said  she.  '  Joeij^  love  ! '  said 
she  again,  turning  her  head.  But  Joey  was  utterly  and  wholly 
gone.     I  believe  he  explained  afterwards  that  he  had  lost  us. 

'  There  ! '  said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  with  incisiveness  ;  '  now 
we  must  see  somebody  we  know !     Pet,  isn't  that  Sir  Melville 


230  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Cartus  ?'  It  was,  and  Sir  Melville  came  up  in  response  to  Mis. 
Bangley  Coffin's  eyeglass  and  bow  and  smile,  and  made  himself 
extremely  agreeable  for  about  four  minutes  and  a-quarter.  Then 
he  also  took  off  his  hat  with  much  charm  of  manner  and  went 
away.  So  did  a  nervous  little  Mr.  Trifugis,  who  joined  us  for  a 
short  time.  He  said  he  was  on  the  Fitzwalters's  drag,  and  it  was 
so  uncommon  full  he  had  apprehensions  about  getting  back. 
Whose  drag  were  we  on  ?  and  didn't  we  think  it  was  drawing 
near  the  halcyon  hour  of  luncheon  ? 

'  Nobody's,'  said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  pointedly.  '  We  catne 
by  train  this  year.  Joey  is  suffering  from  a  fit  of  economy — the 
result  of  Surefoot's  behaviour  at  the  Derby.  It  is  about  time 
for  luncheon.' 

Whereat  Mr.  Trifugis  dropped  his  eyeglass  and  looked 
absently  over  his  left  shoulder,  blushing  hard.  Then  he  screwed 
the  eyeglass  in  again  very  tight,  Jooked  at  us  all  with  amiable 
indefiniteness,  took  off  /us  hat,  and  departed.  '  Little  beast ! ' 
said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin,  candidly;  'there's  not  the  slightest 
reason  why  he  couldn't  have  given  us  all  luncheon  at  the  Lyric 
enclosure.' 

Then  I  began  to  see  why  it  was  so  necessary  that  we  should 
meet  somebody  we  knew — it  meant  sustenance.  It  was,  as  Mr. 
Trifugis  had  said,  quite  time  for  sustenance,  and  neither  the 
Bangley  Coffin  family  nor  I  had  had  any  since  breakfast,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  that  consideration,  which  was  naturally  a 
serious  one,  I,  for  my  part,  would  have  been  delighted  just  to 
go  round,  as  we  seemed  likely  to  do,  by  ourselves.  There  was 
no  band,  as  there  never  is  in  England — I  suppose  because  Edward 
the  Confessor  or  somebody  didn't  like  bands ;  but  there  was 
everything  else  that  goes  to  give  an  occasion  brilliance  and 
variety — a    mingling    crowd    of    people    with   conventionally 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  231 

picturesque  clothes  and  interesting  manners,  sunlight,  flags,  a 
race-course,  open  boxes,  an  obvious  thrill  of  excitement,  a  great 
many  novel  noises.  Besides,  it  was  Ascot,  and  its  interest  was 
intrinsic. 

*  I  think  we  must  try  the  drags,'  said  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin — 
and  we  defiled  out  into  the  crowd  beyond  the  gates,  whose  dress 
is  not  original,  that  surges  unremuneratively  between  the  people 
who  pay  on  the  coaches  and  the  people  who  pay  on  the  Lawn. 
It  was  more  amusing  outside,  though  less  exclusive — livelier, 
noisier.  Men  were  hanging  thick  against  the  palings  of  the 
Lawn,  with  expressions  of  deep  sagacity  and  coloured  shirts, 
calling  uninterruptedly,  '  Two  to  one  bar  one  ! '  *  Two  to  one 
Orveito !  '  and  very  well  dressed  young  gentlemen  occasionally 
came  up  and  entered  into  respectful  conference  with  them.  We 
were  jostled  a  good  deal  in  the  elbowing  multitude,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  to  be  always,  as  if  in  irony,  by  a  man  who  sold  ginger- 
bread or  boiled  lobsters.  We  made  our  way  through  it,  how- 
ever, and  walked  slowly  in  the  very  shadow  of  the  drags,  on  top 
of  which  people  with  no  better  appetites  than  we  had  were 
ostentatiously  feasting.  We  were  all  to  look  out  for  the  Pibbly 
hats,  and  we  did — in  vain.  *  I  can't  imagine,'  said  Mrs.  Bangley 
Coffin  to  each  of  her  daughters  in  turn,  '  why  you  didn't  go 
with  them  ! '  We  saw  Mr.  Trifugis,  and  noted  bitterly  that  he 
had  not  been  at  all  too  late.  An  actress  on  the  Lyric  drag  gave 
us  a  very  frank  and  full-flavoured  criticism  of  our  dresses,  but  it 
was  unsatisfying,  except  to  the  sensibilities. 

^  Shall  we  try  behind,  mamma  ?  '  asked  one  of  the  young 
ladies.  '  Who  could  possibly  see  us  behind  ?  '  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Bangley  Coffin,  who  was  getting  cross.  Nevertheless,  we  did  try 
behind,  and  somebody  did  see  us — several  very  intelligent  footmen. 

*  Is  there  no  place,'  I  inquired  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time, 

16 


232 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


'  where  we  could  Imij  a  little  light  refreshment  ? '    !Mrs.  Bangley 
Coffin  didn't  say  there  was  not,  but  seemed  to  think  it  so  im- 


'  ALV/AYS,    AS    IF   IN   IRONY,    BY   A    ATAN    WHO    SOLD    GINGERBKEAD 

probable  that  it  was  hardly  worth  our  while  to  look.     '  Nobody 
lunches  at  Ascot,  Miss  Wick,'  she  said  at  last,  with  a  little 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  233 

asperity,  '•  except  on  the  drags  or  at  the  club  enclosures.     It's — 
it's  impossible.' 


*  AN  ACTRESS   ON  THE   UYKIC   1>RAG   GAVE   US  A  VERT   FRANK   AND   FULL-FLAVOURED 
CRITICISM    OF    OUR   DRESSES  ' 

'Well,'  I  said,  '  I  think  it's  very  unenterprising  not  to  make 
provision  for  such  a  large  number  of  people.     If  this  were  in 


234  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

America '  But  just  then  we  came  face  to  face  with  Colonel  and 

Mrs.  B.  J.  Silverthorn,  of  St.  Paul's,  Minnesota.  To  say  that 
I  was  glad  to  see  these  old  friends  in  this  particular  emergency 
is  to  say  very  little.  I  knew  the  Colonel's  theory  of  living,  and 
I  was  quite  sure  that  starving  for  six  hours  on  an  English  race- 
course had  no  place  in  it.  I  knew  his  generous  heart,  too,  and 
was  confident  that  any  daughter  of  poppa's  might  rely  upon  it 
to  the  utmost.  So,  after  introducing  Mrs.  and  the  Misses 
Bangley  Coffin,  I  proceeded  to  explain  our  unfortunate  situation. 
'  Can  you  tell  us,'  I  begged,  ^  where  we  can  get  something  to 
eat?' 

The  Colonel  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  *  Come  right  along 
with  me,'  he  said.  ^  It  isn't  just  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  but 
it'll  do  if  you're  hungry,  and  I  guess  you  are !  '  And  we  all 
followed  him  to  the  rather  abridged  seclusion  of  the  restaurant 
behind  the  Grand  Stand.  The  Colonel  did  it  all  very  hand- 
somely— ordered  champagne,  and  more  dishes  than  twice  as  many 
people  could  have  disposed  of ;  but  the  cloud  that  rested  upon 
the  brows  of  Mrs.  and  the  Misses  Bangley  Coffin  did  not  disperse 
with  the  comforting  influence  of  food,  and  they  kept  a  nervous 
eye  upon  the  comers  and  goers.  I  suppose  they  had  waited  too 
long  for  their  meal  really  to  enjoy  it. 

We  parted  from  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Silverthorn  almost  im- 
mediately afterwards — they  said  they  wanted  to  go  and  have 
another  good  look  at  the  Royalties  and  Dukes  in  their  own  yard, 
and  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  thought  it  was  really  our  duty  to  stay 
where  Mr.  Bangley  Coffin  might  find  us.  So  we  went  and  sat 
in  a  row  and  saw  the  Gold  Cup  won,  and  shortly  after  took  an 
early  train  for  London,  Mrs.  Bangley  Coffin  declaring  that  she 
had  no  he^irt  for  another  sovereign  for  the  Paddock.  On  the 
way  home  she  said  she  was  sorry  I  had  had  such  a  dull  day,  and 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  235 

tliat  it  was  lier  first  and  last  attempt  to  '  screw  '  Ascot.  But  I 
had  not  had  at  all  a  dull  day — it  had  been  immensely  interest- 
ing, to  say  nothing  of  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Silverthorn.  I  quite  agreed  with  Mrs.  Bangley  CofiSn,  however, 
that  it  is  better  to  make  liberal  arrangements  for  Ascot  when 
you  go  as  an  Ascot  person. 


236  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XXII 

*  T  DON'T  know  what  we  were  about  to  let  Miss  Wick  miss 
-1  the  Boats,'  said  Mr.  MafFerton  one  day,  over  his  after- 
noon-tea in  Lady  Torquilin's  flat.  I  looked  at  Lady  Torquilin, 
and  said  I  thought  Mr.  Mafferton  must  be  mistaken  ;  I  had 
never  missed  a  boat  in  my  life,  and,  besides,  we  hadn't  been 
going  anywhere  by  boat  lately.  The  reason  we  had  put  off 
our  trip  to  Richmond  five  times  was  invariably  because  of 
the  weather.  Peter  Corke  happened  to  be  there  that  afternoon, 
too,  though  she  didn't  make  much  of  a  visit.  Miss  Corke 
never  did  stay  very  long  when  Mr.  Mafferton  was  there — he 
was  a  person  she  couldn't  bear.  She  never  called  him  anything 
but  '  That.'  She  declared  you  could  see  hundreds  of  him 
any  afternoon  in  Piccadilly,  all  with  the  same  hat  and  collar 
and  expression  and  carnation  in  their  button-holes.  She  failed 
to  see  why  I  should  waste  any  portion  of  my  valuable  time  in 
observing  Mr.  Mafferton,  when  I  had  still  to  see  '  Dolly's  Chop 
House,'  and  Guy  the  King-maker's  tablet  in  Warwick  Lane, 
and  the  Boy  in  Panyer  Alley,  and  was  so  far  unimproved  by 
anything  whatever  relating  to  Oliver  Goldsmith  or  Samuel 
Johnson.  She  could  not  understand  that  a  profoundly  unin- 
teresting person  might  interest  you  precisely  on  that  account. 
But,  '  Oh  you  aborigine ! '  she  began  about  the  Boats,  and  I 
presently  understood  another  of  those  English  descriptive  terms 
by  which  you  mean  something  that  you  do  not  say. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  237 

The  discussion  ended,  very  happily  for  me,  in  an  arrangement 
suggested  jointly  by  Miss  Corke  and  Mr.  Mafferton.  Lady 
Torquilin  and  I  should  go  to  Oxford  to  see  '  the  Eights.'  Mr. 
Mafferton  had  a  nephew  at  Pembroke,  and  no  doubt  the  young 
cub  would  be  delighted  to  look  after  us.  Miss  Corke's  younger 
brother  was  at  Exeter,  and  she  would  write  to  the  dear  boy  at 
once  that  he  must  be  nice  to  us.  Peter  was  very  sorry  she 
couldn't  come  herself — nothing  would  have  given  her  greater 
pleasure,  she  said,  than  to  show  me  all  I  didn't  know  in  the 
Bodleian. 

I  suppose  we  have  rather  a  large,  exaggerated  idea  of 
Oxford  in  America,  thinking  about  it,  as  it  were,  externally. 
As  a  name  it  is  so  constantly  before  us,  and  the  terms  of 
respect  in  which  the  English  despatches  speak  of  it  are  so 
marked,  that  its  importance  in  our  eyes  has  become  extremely 
great.  We  think  it  a  city,  of  course — no  place  could  grow  to 
such  fame  without  being  a  city — and  with  us  the  importance  of 
a  city  naturally  invests  itself  in  large  blocks  of  fine  buildings 
chiefly  devoted  to  business,  in  a  widely-extended  and  highly- 
perfected  telephone  system,  and  in  avenues  of  Queen  Anne 
i*esidences  with  the  latest  modern  conveniences.  And  Lady 
Torquilin,  on  the  way,  certainly  talked  a  great  deal  about  '  the 
High ' — which  she  explained  to  be  Oxford's  principal  thorough- 
fare— and  the  purchases  she  had  at  one  time  or  another  made  on 
it,  comparing  Oxford  with  London  prices.  So  that  I  had  quite 
an  extensive  State  Street  or  Wabash  Avenue  idea  of  '  the  High.' 
Both  our  young  gentlemen  friends  were  fractional  parts  of  the 
Eights,  and  were  therefore  unable  to  meet  us.  It  had  been 
arranged  that  we  should  lunch  with  one  at  two,  and  take  tea 
with  the  other  at  five,  but  Lady  Torquilin  declared  herself  in 
urgent  need  of  something  sustaining  as  soon  as  we  arrived,  and 


238  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  Shall  we  go  to  the  Clarendon  to  get  it  ? '  said  she,  *  or  to 
Boffin's?' 

*  What  is  Boffin's  ?  '  I  inquired.  It  is  not  safe,  in  English 
localisms,  to  assume  that  you  know  anything. 

'  Boffin's  is  a  pastry-cook's.'  Lady  Torquilin  informed  me,  and 
I  immediately  elected  for  Boffin's.  It  was  something  idyllic,  in 
these  commonplace  days,  when  Dickens  has  been  so  long  dead, 
that  Boffin  should  be  a  pastry-cook,  and  that  a  pastry-cook 
should  be  Boffin.  Perhaps  it  struck  me  especially,  because  in 
America  he  would  have  been  a  'confectioner,'  with  some 
aesthetic  change  in  the  spelling  of  the  original  Boffin  that  I  am 
convinced  could  not  be  half  so  good  for  business.  And  we 
walked  up  a  long,  narrow,  quiet  street,  bent  like  an  elbow,  lined 
with  low-roofed  little  shops  devoted  chiefly,  as  I  remember  them, 
to  the  sale  of  tennis-racquets,  old  prints,  sausages,  and  gentle- 
men's neckties,  full  of  quaint  gables,  and  here  and  there  lapsing 
into  a  row  of  elderly  stone  houses  that  had  all  gone  to  sleep 
together  by  the  pavement,  leaving  their  worldly  business  to  the 
care  of  the  brass-plates  on  their  doors.  Such  a  curious  old  street 
we  went  up  to  Boffin's,  so  peaceful,  nothing  in  it  but  inoffensive 
boys  pushing  handcarts,  and  amiable  gentlemen  advanced  in 
years  with  spectacles — certainly  more  of  these  than  I  ever  saw 
together  in  any  other  place — never  drowsing  far  from  the  shadow 
of  some  serious  grey  pile,  ivy-bearded  and  intent,  like  a  vener- 
able scholar — oh,  a  very  curious  old  street ! 

'  Shall  we  get,'  said  I  to  Lady  Torquilin, '  any  glimpse  of  the 
High  before  we  reach  Boffin's  ? '  Dear  Lady  Torquilin  looked 
at  me  sternly,  as  if  to  discover  some  latent  insincerity.  '  None 
of  your  impertinence,  miss,'  said  she  ;  '  iMs  is  the  High ! ' 

I  was  more  charmed  and  delighted  than  I  can  express,  and 
as  Lady  Torquilin  fortunately   remembered  several  things  we 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  239 

urgently  needed,  and  could  buy  to  much  better  advantage  in 
Oxford  than  in  '  Town,'  I  had  the  great  pleasure  of  finding  out 
what  it  was  like  to  shop  in  the  High,  and  the  other  queer  little 
streets  which  are  permitted  to  run — no,  to  creep — about  the  feet 
of  the  great  wise  old  colleges  that  take  such  kindly  notice  of 
them.  It  was  very  nice,  to  my  mind,  that  huddling  together  of 
pastry-cooks  and  gargoyles,  of  chapels  and  old  china  shops,  of 
battered  mediaeval  saints  and  those  little  modern  errand-boys 
with  their  handcarts — of  old  times  and  new,  preponderatingly 
old  and  respectfully  new.  Much  more  democratic,  too,  than  a 
seat  of  learning  would  be  in  America,  where  almost  every 
college  of  reputation  is  isolated  in  the  sea  of  '  grounds,'  and  the 
only  sound  that  falls  upon  the  academic  ear  is  the  clatter  of  the 
lawn-mower  or  the  hissing  of  the  garden-hose.  Nor  shall  T  soon 
forget  the  emotions  with  which  I  made  a  perfectly  inoffensive 
purchase  in  a  small  establishment  of  wide  reputation  for  petty 
wares,  called,  apparently  from  time  immemorial,  ^  The  Civet 
Cat ' — not  reproachfully,  nor  in  a  spirit  of  derision,  but  bearing 
the  name  with  dignity  in  painted  letters. 

People  who  know  their  way  about  Oxford  will  understand 
how  we  found  ours  to  Pembroke  from  the  High.  I  find  that  I 
have  forgotten.  We  stood  at  so  many  corners  to  look,  and 
Lady  Torquilin  bade  me  hurry  on  so  often,  that  the  streets  and 
the  colleges,  and  the  towers  and  the  gardens,  are  all  lost  to  me  in 
a  crowded  memory  that  diverges  with  the  vagueness  of  enchant- 
ment from  Carfax  and  Boffin's.  But  at  last  we  walked  out  of 
the  relative  bustle  of  the  highways  and  byways  into  the  quietest 
place  I  ever  saw  or  felt,  except  a  graveyard  in  the  Strand— a 
green  square  hedged  in  with  buildings  of  great  dignity  and 
solidity,  and  very  serious  mind.  I  felt,  as  we  walked  around  it 
to  ask  a  respectable-looking  man  waiting  about  on  the  other 


240 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


side  where  Mr.  Sanders  Horton's  rooms  were,  as  if  I  were  in 
church. 

'  Yes  m  !     This  way'm,  if  ^/ow  please,'  baid  the  respectable- 


FELT   AS   IF   I    WERE    IN    CHURCH 


looking  man.     'Mr.  'Orton's  rooms  is  on  the  first  floor  h'up, 
'm' ;  and  as  Mr.  Horton  himself  had  come  out  on  the  landing  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  241 

receive  us,  and  was  presently  very  prettily  shaking  hands  with 
us,  we  had  no  further  difficulty.  Our  host  had  not  considered 
himself  equal  to  lunching  two  strange  ladies  unassisted,  however, 
and  as  he  looked  a  barely  possible  nineteen,  this  was  not 
remarkable,  Lady  Torquilin  thought  afterwards.  He  immedi- 
ately introduced  his  friend.  Lord  Symonds,  who  seemed,  if  any- 
thing, less  mature,  but  whose  manners  were  quite  as  nice. 
Then  we  all  sat  down  in  Mr.  Sanders  Horton's  pretty  little 
room,  and  watched  the  final  evolution  of  luncheon  on  the  table, 
and  talked  about  the  view.  '  You  have  a  lovely  lawn,'  said  I 
to  Mr,  Horton,  who  responded  that  it  wasn't  a  bad  quad  ;  and 
when  I  asked  if  the  respectable-looking  man  downstairs  was  the 
caretaker  of  the  college  :  '  Oh,  nothing  so  swagger  ! '  said  Lord 
Symonds  ;  '  probably  a  scout ! '  And  the  presence  of  a  quad 
and  a  scout  did  more  than  all  the  guide-books  I  read  up 
afterwards  to  give  me  a  realising  sense  of  being  in  an  English 
university  centre.  We  looked  at  Mr.  Ilorton's  pictures,  too,  and 
examined,  complimentarily,  all  his  decorative  effects  of  wood- 
carving  and  old  china,  doing  our  duty,  as  is  required  of  ladies 
visiting  the  menage  of  a  young  gentleman,  with  enthusiasm.  I 
was  a  little  disappointed,  personally,  in  not  finding  the  initials 
of  Byron  or  somebody  cut  on  Mr.  Horton's  window-sill,  and  dis- 
tinctly shocked  to  hear  that  this  part  of  Pembroke  College  had 
been  built  within  the  memory  of  living  man,  as  Mr.  Horton  was 
reluctantly  obliged  to  admit.  He  apologised  for  its  extreme 
modemness  on  the  ground  of  its  comparative  comfort,  but 
seemed  to  feel  it,  in  a  subdued  way,  severely,  as  was  eminently 
proper.  Among  the  various  photographs  of  boat-races  upon 
the  wall  was  one  in  which  Mr.  Horton  pointed  out  '  the 
Torpids,'  which  I  could  not  help  considering  and  remarking 
upon  as  a  curious  name  for  a  boating-crew.     *  Why  are  they 


242  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

called    that  ? '    I    asked ;    *  they    seem    to    be   going    pretty 
fast.' 

*  Oh,  rather  ! '  responded  Mr.  Horton.  '  Upon  my  word,  I 
don't  know.  It  does  seem  hard  lines,  doesn't  it  ?  Symonds, 
where  did  these  fellows  get  their  name  ? '  But  Lord  Symonds 
didn't  know  exactly  either — they'd  always  had  it,  he  fancied ; 
and  Lady  Torquilin  explained  that  *  this  yonng  lady ' — meaning 
me — could  never  be  satisfied  with  hearing  that  a  thing  was  so 
because  it  was  so — she  must  always  know  the  why  and  where- 
fore of  everything,  even  when  there  was  neither  why  nor  where- 
fore ;  at  which  we  all  laughed  and  sat  down  to  luncheon.  But 
I  privately  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  an  explanation  of  the  Tor- 
pids from  the  first  Oxford  graduate  with  honours  that  I  met,  and 
I  did.  He  didn't  know  either.  He  was  not  a  boating-man, 
however ;  he  had  taken  his  honours  in  Classics. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


243 


XXIII 


Had  heard  so  much  from 
Ecglish  sources  of  the 
precocity  and  forwardness 
of  very  young  people  in 
America,  that  I  was  quite 
prepared  to  find  a  com- 
mendably  opposite  state  of 
things  in  England,  and  I 
must  say  that,  generally 
speaking,  I  was  not  dis- 
appointed. The  extent  to 
which  young  ladies  and 
gentlemen  under  twenty - 
two  can  sit  up  straight 
and  refrain  from  conversa- 
tion here,  impressed  me  as 
much  as  anything  I  have 
seen  in  society.  I  have  not  observed  any  of  this  shyness  in 
married  ladies  or  older  gent'emen  ;  and  that  struck  me  oddly, 
too,  for  in  America  it  is  only  with  advancing  years  that  we 
become  conscious  of  our  manners. 

I  have  no  doubt  that,  if  the  Eights  had  been  in  America — 
where  they  would  probably  be  called  the  Octoplets — and  Mr. 
Sanders    Horton    had    been    a  Harvard  Sophomore,  and  Lord 


244  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Symonds's  father  had  made  his  fortune  out  of  a  patent  shoe- 
lace-tag, and  we  had  all  been  enjoying  ourselves  over  there,  we 
might  have  noticed  a  difference  both  in  the  appearance  and  the 
behaviour  of  these  young  gentlemen.  They  would  certainly 
have  been  older  for  their  years,  and  more  elaborately  dressed. 
Their  complexions  would  probably  not  have  been  so  fresh,  nor 
j:heir  shoulders  so  broad,  and  the  pencilling  on  Mr.  Hortou's 
upper  lip,  and  the  delicate,  fair  marking  on  Lord  Symonds's, 
would  assuredly  have  deepened  into  a  moustache.  Their  manners 
would  not  have  been  so  negatively  good  as  they  were  in  Oxford, 
where  they  struck  me  as  expressing  an  ideal,  above  all  things,  to 
avoid  doing  those  things  which  they  ought  not  to  do.  Their 
politeness  would  have  been  more  effusive,  and  not  the  least  bit 
nervous ;  though  I  hope  neither  Mr.  Horton  nor  Lord  Symonds 
will  mind  my  implying  that  in  Oxford  they  were  nervous. 
People  can't  possibly  help  the  way  they  have  been  brought  up, 
and  to  me  our  host's  nervousness  was  interesting,  like  his 
English  accent,  and  the  scout  and  the  quad.  Personally,  I 
liked  the  feeling  of  superinducing  bashfulness  in  two  nice  boys 
like  those — it  was  novel  and  amusing— though  I  have  no  doubt 
they  were  much  more  afraid  of  Lady  Torquilin  than  of  me. 
I  never  saw  a  boy,  however,  from  twelve  to  twenty-three — which 
strikes  me  as  the  span  of  boyhood  in  England — that  was  not 
Lady  Torquilin's  attached  slave  after  twenty  minutes'  conver- 
sation with  her.  She  did  not  humour  them,  or  flatter  them,  or 
talk  to  them  upon  their  particular  subjects;  she  was  simply 
what  they  called  'jolly'  to  them,  and  their  appreciation  was 
always  prompt  and  lively.  Lady  Torquilin  got  on  splendidly 
with  both  Mr.  Sanders  Horton  and  Lord  Symonds.  The  only 
reason  why  Mr.  Horton's  lunch  was  not  an  unqualifiedly  brilliant 
success  was  that,  whenever  she  talked  to  one  of  our  hosts,  the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  245 

other  one  was  left  for  me  to  talk  to,  which  was  usually  dis- 
tressing for  both  of  us. 

It  was  an  extremely  nice  lunch,  served  with  anxious  defer- 
ence by  the  respectable-looking  little  man  who  had  come  upstairs, 
and  nervously  commanded  by  Mr.  Horton  at  one  end  with  the 
cold  joint,  and  Lord  Symonds  at  the  other  with  the  fowl.  It 
began,  I  remember,  with  bouillon.  Lady  Torquilin  partook  of 
bouillon,  so  did  I ;  but  the  respectable  scout  did  not  even  offer 
it  to  the  young  gentlemen.  I  caught  a  rapid,  inquiring  glance 
from  Lady  Torquilin.  Could  it  be  that  there  was  not  bouillon 
enough?  The  thought  checked  any  utterance  upon  the  subject, 
and  we  finished  our  soup  with  careful  indifference,  while  Lord 
Symonds  covered  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation  by  explain- 
ing to  me  demonstratively  the  nature  of  a  Bump.  I  did  not 
understand  Bumps  then,  nor  did  I  succeed  during  the  course  of 
the  afternoon  in  picking  up  enough  information  to  write  intelli- 
gently about  them.  But  this  was  because  Lord  Symonds  had 
no  bouillon.  Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  put  my  miud  to  it. 

Presently  Mr.  Horton  asked  us  if  he  might  give  us  some 
salmon — not  collectively,  but  individually  and  properly.  Lady 
Torquillin  first;  and  we  said  he  might.  He  did  not  help  Lord 
Symonds,  and  relapsed  himself,  as  it  were,  into  an  empty  plate. 
It  was  Lady  Torquilin's  business  to  inquire  if  the  young  gentle- 
men were  not  well,  or  if  salmon  did  not  agree  with  them, 
and  not  mine;  but  while  I  privately  agitated  this  matter,  I 
unobservantly  helped  myself  to  mayonnaise.  '  I — I  beg  your 
pardon,'  said  Mr.  Sanders  Horton,  in  a  pink  agony ;  '  that's 
cream  ! '  So  it  was,  waiting  in  a  beautiful  old-fashioned  silver 
pitcher  the  advent  of  those  idylls  that  come  after.  It  was  a 
critical    moment,   for  it   instantly  flashed    upon    me    that   the 


246 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


respectable  scout  had  forgotteo  the  mayonnaise,  and  that  I  had 

been  the  means  of  making  Mr.  Sanders  Horton  very  uncom- 
fortable indeed.  Only  one  thing 
occurred  to  me  to  say,  for  which 
I  hope  I  may  be  forgiven. 
'Yes,'  I  returned,  'we  like  it 
with  fish  in  America.'  At 
which  Mr.  Horton  looked  in- 
terested and  relieved.  And  I 
ate  as  much  of  the  mixture  as  I 
could  with  a  smile,  though  the 
salmon  had  undergone  a  vinegar 
treatment  which  made  this  diffi- 
cult. '  It  is  in  Boston,  is  it 
not,'  remarked  Lord  Symonds 
politely,  'that  the  people  live 
almost  entirely  upon  beans  ? ' 
And  the  conversation  flowed 
quite  generally  until  the  advent 
of  the  fowl.  It  was  a  large, 
well- conditioned  chicken,  and 
when  the  young  gentlemen, 
ap[)arently  by  mutual  consent, 
refrained  from  partaking  of  it, 
the  situation  had  reached  a 
degree  of  unreasonableness 
which  was  more  than  Lady 
Torquilin  could  endure. 

'  Do  you    intend  to  eat  no- 

thing  ? '    she  inquired,  with  the  air  of  one  who  will  accept  no 

prevarications. 


'  THE    RESPECTABLE    SCOUT. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  247 

*  Oh,  we'd  like  to,  but  we  can't,'  they  replied,  earnestly  and 
simultaneously. 

'  We're  still  in  training,  you  know,'  Lord  Symonds  went  on. 
'  Fellows  have  got  to  train  pretty  much  on  stodge.'  And  at 
this  juncture  Mr.  Horton  solemnly  cut  two  slices  of  the  cold 
beef,  and  sent  them  to  his  friend,  helping  himself  to  the  same 
quantity  with  mathematical  exactness.  Then,  with  plain  bread, 
and  gravity  which  might  almost  be  called  severe,  they  attacked  it. 

Lady  Torquilin  and  I  looked  at  each  other  reproachfully. 
This  privation  struck  us  as  needless  and  extreme,  and  it  had  the 
uncomfortable  moral  effect  of  turning  our  own  repast  into  a 
Bacchanalian  revel.  We  frowned,  we  protested,  we  besought. 
We  suggested  with  insidious  temptation  that  this  was  the  last 
day  of  the  races,  and  that  nobody  would  know.  We  commended 
each  particular  dish  in  turn,  in  terms  we  thought  most  appetis- 
ing. It  was  very  wrong,  and  it  had  the  sting  which  drives 
wrong-doing  most  forcibly  home  to  the  conscience,  of  being 
entirely  futile,  besides  engendering  the  severe  glances  of  the 
respectable  scout.  The  young  gentlemen  were  as  adamant,  if 
adamant  could  blush.  They  would  not  be  moved,  and  at  every 
fresh  appeal  they  concentrated  their  attention  upon  their  cold 
beef  in  a  manner  which  I  thought  most  noble,  if  a  trifle  ferocious. 
At  last  they  began  to  look  a  little  stern  and  disapproving,  and 
we  stopped,  conscious  of  having  trenched  disrespectfully  upon 
an  ideal  of  conduct.  But  over  the  final  delicacy  of  Mr.  Horton 's 
lunch,  the  first  of  the  season.  Lady  Torquilin  regarded  them 
wistfully.  '  Not  even  gooseberry  tart  ? '  said  she.  And  I  will 
not  say  that  there  was  no  regret  in  the  courageous  rejoinder : 
'  Not  even  gooseberry  tart.' 

I  am  not  pretending  to  write  about  the  things  that  ought  to 
have  impressed  me  most,  but  the  things  that  did  impress  me 
17 


248  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

most,  and  these  were,  at  Mr.  Sanders  Horton's  luncheon,  the 
splendid  old  silver  college  goblets  into  which  our  host  poured  us 
lavish  bumpers  of  claret-cup,  the  moral  support  of  the  respect- 
able scout,  and  the  character  and  dignity  an  ideal  of  duty  may 
possess,  even  in  connection  with  cold  beef.  I  came  into  severe 
contact  with  an  idiom,  too,  which  I  shall  always  associate  with 
that  occasion.  Lord  Symonds  did  not  belong  to  Pembroke 
College,  and  I  asked  him,  after  we  had  exchanged  quite  a  good 
deal  of  polite  conversation,  which  one  he  did  belong  to. 

*  How  lovely  these  old  colleges  are,'  I  remarked,  '  and  so 
nice  and  impressive  and  time-stained.  Which  one  do  you 
attend.  Lord  Symonds  ?  ' 

*  Maudlin,'  said  Lord  Symonds,  apparently  taking  no  notice 
of  my  question,  and  objecting  to  the  preceding  sentiment. 

*Do  you  think  so?'  I  said.  I  was  not  offended.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  some  time  before  never  to  be  offended  in 
England  until  I  understood  things.  '  I'm  very  sorry,  but  they 
do  strike  an  American  that  way,  you  know.' 

Lord  Symonds  did  not  seem  to  grasp  my  meaning.  '  It  is 
jolly  old,'  said  he.  'Not  so  old  as  some^'of  'em.  New,  for 
instance.  But  I  thought  you  asked  my  college.  Maudlin,  just 
this  side  of  Maudlin  bridge,  you  know.' 

'  Oh ! '  I  said.  *  And  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  spell  your 
college.  Lord  Symonds  ?  I  am  but  a  simple  American,  over 
here  partly  for  the  purpose  of  improving  my  mind.' 

'Certainly.  " M-a-g-d-a-1-e-n,'"  returned  Lord  Symonds, 
very  good-naturedly.  '  Now  that  you  speak  of  it,  it  is  rather  a 
rum  way  of  spelling  it.  Something  like  "  Cholmondeley."  Now, 
how  would  you  spell  "  Cholmondeley  ?  " ' 

I  was  glad  to  have  his  attention  diverted  from  my  mistake, 
but   the    reputation  of  'Cholmondeley'   is   world-wide,   and  J 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  249 

spelled  it  triumpliantly.  I  should  like  to  confront  an  American 
spelling-match  with  '  Magdalen/  though,  and  about  eleven 
other  valuable  orthogi-aphical  specimens  that  I  am  taking 
care  of. 

In  due  course  we  all  started  for  the  river,  finding  our  way 
through  quads  even  greyer  and  greener  and  quieter  than  Exeter, 
and  finally  turning  into  a  pretty,  wide,  tree-bordered  highway, 
much  too  well  trodden  to  be  a  popular  Lovers'  Walk,  but  dustily 
pleasant  and  shaded  withal.  We  were  almost  an  hour  too  early 
for  the  races,  as  Mr.  Horton  and  Lord  Syraonds  wished  to  take 
us  on  the  river  before  they  were  obliged  to  join  their  respective 
crews,  and  met  hardly  anybody  except  occasional  strolling,  loose- 
garmented  undergraduates  with  very  various  ribbons  on  their 
round  straw  hats,  which  they  took  off  with  a  kind  of  spasmodic 
gravity  when  they  happened  to  know  our  friends.  The  tree- 
bordered  walk  ended  more  or  less  abruptly  at  a  small  stream, 
bordered  on  its  hither  side  by  a  series  of  curious  constructions 
reminding  one  of  all  sorts  of  things,  from  a  Greek  warship  to  a 
Methodist  church  in  Dakota,  and  wonderfully  painted.  These, 
Mr.  Horton  explained,  were  the  College  barges,  from  which  the 
race  was  viewed,  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  Exeter  barge. 
There  is  a  stairway  to  these  barges,  leading  to  the  top,  and  Mr. 
Horton  showed  us  up,  to  wait  until  he  and  Lord  Symonds  got 
out  the  punt. 

The  word  *  punting '  was  familiar  to  nie,  signifying  an 
aquatic  pursuit  popular  in  England,  but  I  had  never  even  seen 
a  punt,  and  was  very  curious  about  it.  I  cannot  say,  however, 
that  the  English  punt,  when  our  friends  brought  it  round, 
struck  me  as  a  beautiful  object.  Doubtless  it  had  points  of 
excellence,  even  of  grace,  as  compared  with  other  punts — I  do 
not  wish  to  disparage  it — but  I  suffered  from  the  lack  of  a 


250  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

standard  to  admire  it  by.  It  seemed  to  me  an  uninteresting 
vessel,  and  I  did  not  like  the  way  it  was  cut  ojff  at  the  ends. 
The  mode  of  propulsion,  too,  by  which  Mr.  Horton  and  Lord 
Symoiids  got  us  around  the  river — poking  a  stick  into  the  mud 
at  the  bottom  and  leaning  on  it — did  not  impress  me  as  being 
dignified  enough  for  anybody  in  Society.  Lord  Symonds  asked 
me,  as  we  sat  in  one  end  enjoying  the  sun — you  get  to  like  it  in 
England,  even  on  the  back  of  your  neck — what  I  thought  of 
punting.  I  told  him  I  thought  it  was  immoderately  safe.  It 
was  the  most  polite  thing  I  could  think  of  at  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  I  do  not  believe  punting  would  ever  become  popular 
in  America.  We  are  a  light-minded  people ;  we  like  an 
element  of  joyous  risk;  we  are  not  adapted  to  punt. 

The  people  were  beginning  to  come  down  upon  the  barges 
when  we  returned  from  this  excursion,  and  it  was  thought  best 
that  we  should  take  our  places.  The  stream  was  growing  very 
full,  nob  only  of  laborious  punts  containing  three  brightly-dressed 
ladies  and  one  perspiring  young  man,  but  of  all  kinds  of  craft, 
some  luxuriously  overshadowed  with  flounced  awnings,  under 
which  young  gentlemen  with  cigarette-attachments  reposed, 
protecting  themselves  further  with  Japanese  paper  umbrellas. 
The  odd  part  of  this  was  that  both  they  and  their  umbrellas 
seemed  to  be  taken  by  themselves  and  everybody  else  quite  au 
serieiix.     This,  again,  would  be  different  in  America. 

Mr.  Horton  left  us  with  Lord  Symonds,  who  had  not  to 
row,  he  explained 'to  us,  until  later  in  the  day;  and  presently 
we  saw  our  host  below,  with  the  rest  of  his  bare-legged,  mus- 
cular crew,  getting  gingerly  into  the  long,  narrow  outrigger 
lying  alongside.  They  arranged  themselves  with  great  care 
and  precision,  and  then  held  their  oars,  looking  earnestly  at  a 
little  man  who  sat  up  very  straight  in  the  stern — the  cox.     He 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  251 

was  my  first  cox,  for  I  had  never  seen  a  boat-race  before,  ex- 
cepting between  champions,  who  do  not  row  with  coxes,  and  1 
was  delighted  to  find  how  accurately  he  had  been  described  in 
the  articles  we  read  about  English  boating — his  size,  his  erect - 
ness  and  alertness,  and  autocratic  dignity.  At  a  word  from 
the  cox  every  man  turned  his  head  half-way  round  and  back 
again ;  then  he  said,  in  the  sternest  accents  I  had  ever  heard, 
'  Are — you — ready  ?  '  and  in  an  instant  they  were  off. 

'  Where  are  they  going  ? '  Lady  Torquilin  asked. 

'  Oh,  for  a  preliminary  spin,'  said  Lord  Syraonds,  '  and  then 
for  the  starting-point.* 

'  And  when  do  the  barges  start  ? '  I  inquired,  without 
having  given  the  matter  any  kind  of  consideration. 

'  The  barges  ! '  said  Lord  Symonds,  mystified.  '  Do  you 
mean  these  ?     They  don't  start ;  they  stay  here.' 

'  But  can  we  see  the  race  from  here  ? '  I  asked. 

'  Beautifully  !     They  come  past.' 

*  Do  I  understand.  Lord  Symonds,  that  the  Oxford  boat-race 
takes  place  out  there  ? ' 

'  Certainly,'  said  he.     *  Why  not  ? ' 

'  Oh,  no  particular  reason,'  I  returned — *  if  there  is  room.' 

*  Rather ! '  the  young  gentleman  explained.  '  This  is  the 
noble  river  Isis,  Miss  Wick.' 

*  It  may  not  be  so  big  as  the  Mississippi,  but  it's  worthy  of 
your  respectful  consideration,  young  lady,'  put  in  Lady  Tor- 
quilin. Thus  admonished,  I  endeavoured  to  give  the  noble 
river  Isis  ray  respectful  consideration,  but  the  barges  occupied 
so  much  space  in  it  that  I  was  still  unable  to  understand  how 
a  boat-race  of  any  importance  could  come  between  us  and  the 
opposite  bank  without  seriously  inconveniencing  somebody. 

It  did,  however,  and   such  was  the  skill  displayed  by  the 


252  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

coxes  in  charge  that  nobody  was  hurt.  It  came  off  amid 
demonstrations  of  the  most  extraordinary  nature,  tin  whistles 
predominating,  on  the  opposite  bank,  where  I  saw  a  genuine 
bishop  capering  along  with  the  crowd,  waving  his  hat  on  his 
stick.  It  came  off  straight  and  tense  and  arrowy,  cheered  to 
the  last  stroke. 

*  So  near  it ! '  said  Lord  Symonds,  after  shouting  *  Well 
rowed,  Pembroke  ! '  until  he  could  shout  no  longer. 

*  Near  what  ? '  I  asked. 

*  A  bump,'  said  he,  sadly ;  '  but  it  was  jolly  well  rowed ! ' 
and  for  the  moment  I  felt  that  no  earthly  achievement  could 
compare  with  the  making  of  bumps. 

Such  excitement  I  never  eaw,  among  the  Dons  on  the 
barges — my  first  Dons,  too,  but  they  differed  very  much;  I 
could  not  generalise  about  them — among  their  wives,  who 
seemed  unaggressive,  youngish  ladies,  as  a  rule,  in  rather  subdued 
gowns ;  among  the  gay  people  down  from  '  Town,'  among  the 
college  men,  incorrigibly  uproarious ;  among  that  considerable 
body  of  society  that  adds  so  little  to  the  brilliance  of  such  an 
occasion  but  contributes  so  largely  to  its  noise.  And  after  it 
was  over  a  number  of  exuberant  young  men  on  the  other  side 
plunged  into  the  noble  river  Isis  and  crossed  it  with  a  faw  well- 
placed  strides,  and  possibly  two  strokes.  None  of  them  were 
drowned. 

After  that  we  had  a  joyous  half-hour  in  the  apartments,  at 
Exeter,  of  Mr.  Bertie  Corke,  whose  brown  eyes  had  Peter's 
very  twinkle  in  them,  and  who  became  established  in  our  affec- 
tions at  once  upon  that  account.  Mr.  Corke  was  one  of 
the  Exeter  Eight,  and  he  looked  reproachfully  at  us  when  we 
inadvertently  stated  that  we  had  lingered  to  congratulate  Pem- 
broke. 


A   GENUINE    BISHOP. 


254  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  Pembroke  got  a  bump,  you  know,  yesterday,'  I  remarked, 
proud  of  the  technicality. 

'  Yes,'  returned  Mr.  Bertie  Corke,  ruefully,  '  bumped  us^ 

This  was  an  unfortunate  beginning,  but  it  did  not  mar  our 
subsequent  relations  with  Miss  Peter  Corke's  brother,  which 
were  of  the  pleasantest  description.  He  told  us  on  the  way 
down  once  more  to  the  noble  river  Isis  the  names  of  all  those 
delightful  elderly  stone  images  that  had  themselves  put  over 
the  college  doors  centuries  ago,  when  they  were  built,  and  he 
got  almost  as  many  interiors  into  half  an  hour  as  his  sister 
could.  He  explained  to  us,  too,  how,  by  the  rules  of  the  Uni- 
versity, he  was  not  allowed  to  play  marbles  on  the  college  steps, 
or  to  wear  clothes  of  other  than  an  *  obfusc  hue,'  which  was 
exactly  the  kind  of  thing  that  Peter  would  tell  you — and 
expect  you  to  remember.  He  informed  us,  too,  that  according 
to  the  pure  usage  of  Oxonian  English  he  was  a  *  Fresher,'  the 
man  we  had  just  passed  being  an  unattached  student,  a 
*  tosher,*  probably  walking  for  what  in  the  vulgar  tongue  might 
be  called  exercise,  but  here  was  '  ekker.'  In  many  ways  he 
was  like  Peter,  and  he  objected  just  as  much  to  my  abuse  of 
the  English  climate. 

The  second  race  was  very  like  the  first,  with  more  enthu- 
siasm. I  have  a  little  folding  card  with  '  The  Eights,  May  22 
to  28,  1890,'  and  the  names  of  the  colleges  in  the  order  of 
starting,  printed  in  blue  letters  on  the  inside.  The  '  order  of 
finish  '  from  '  B.  N.  C  to  '  St.  Edm.  Hall '  is  in  Jilr-  Bertie 
Corke's  handwriting.  I'm  not  a  sentimentalist,  but  I  liked  the 
Eights,  and  I  mean  to  keep  this  souvenir. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


255 


XXIV 

HE   records    of   my  ex- 
periences   in    London 
would  be  very  incom- 
plete without  another 
chapter     devoted     to 
those       Miss      Peter 
Corke     arranged     for 
me.     Indeed,  I  would 
need    the    license    of 
many  chapters  to  ex- 
plain   at    any    length 
how   generously  Miss 
Corke  fulfilled  to  me  the  offices  of  guide,  philosopher,  and  friend  ; 
how  she  rounded  out  my  days  with  counsel,  and  was  in  all  of 
them  a  personal  blessing. 

Dispensing  information  was  a  habit  which  Peter  Corke 
incorrigibly  established — one  of  the  things  she  could  not  help. 
I  believe  an  important  reason  why  she  liked  me  was  because  I 
gave  her  such  unlimited  opportunities  for  indulging  it,  and  she 
said  I  simulated  gratitude  fairly  well.  For  my  own  part,  I 
always  liked  it,  whether  it  was  at  the  expense  of  my  accent  or 
my  idioms,  my  manners  or  my  morals,  my  social  theories  or  my 
general  education,  and  encouraged  her  in  it.     I  was  pleased  with 


256  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

the  idea  that  she  found  me  interesting  enough  to  make  it  worth 
while,  for  one  thing,  and  then  it  helped  my  understanding  of 
the  lady  herself  better  than  anything  else  would  have  done. 
And  many  voyages  and  large  expense  might  go  into  the  balance 
against  an  acquaintance  with  Peter  Corke. 

Miss  Corke  was  more  ardently  attached  to  the  Past  than  any- 
body I  have  ever  known  or  heard  of  that  did  not  live  in  it.  Her 
interest  did  not  demand  any  great  degree  of  antiquity,  though 
it  increased  in  direct  ratio  with  the  centuries ;  the  mere  fact 
that  a  thing  was  over  and  done  with,  laid  on  the  shelf,  or  getting 
mossy  and  forgotten,  was  enough  to  secure  her  respectful  con- 
sideration. She  liked  old  folios  and  prints — it  was  her  pastime 
to  poke  in  the  dust  of  ages ;  I've  seen  her  placidly  enjoying  a 
graveyard — with  no  recent  interments — for  half  an  hour  at  a 
time.  She  had  a  fine  scorn  of  the  Present  in  all  its  forms  and 
phases.  If  I  heard  her  speak  with  appreciation  of  anybody  with 
whose  reputation  I  was  unacquainted,  I  generally  found  it  safe 
to  ask,  intelligently,  *  When  did  he  die  ?  *  She  always  knew 
exactly,  and  who  attended  the  funeral,  and  what  became  of  the 
children,  and  whether  the  widow  got  an  annuity  from  the 
Government  or  not.  being  usually  of  the  opinion  that  the  widow 
should  have  had  the  annuity. 

Of  course,  it  w^s  Miss  Corke  who  took  me  down  into  Fleet 
Street  to  see  where  Dr.  Johnson  used  to  live.  I  did  not  hear 
the  name  of  Dr.  Johnson  from  another  soul  in  London  during 
the  whole  of  my  visit.  My  friend  bore  down  through  the 
Strand,  and  past  that  mediaeval  griffin  where  Temple  Bar  was, 
that  claws  the  air  in  protection  of  your  placid  Prince  in  a  frock- 
coat  underneath — stopping  here  a.n  instant  for  anathema — and 
on  into  the  crook  of  Fleet  Street,  under  St.  Paul's,  with  all  the 
pure  delight  of  an  enthusiastic  cicerone  in  her  face.     I  think 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  257 

Peter  loved  the  Strand  and  Fleet  Street  almost  as  well  as  Dr. 
Johnson  did,  and  she  always  wore  direct  descendants  of  the 
seven-league  boots.     This  was  sometimes  a  little  trying  for  mine, 

which  had  no  pedigree,  though,  in  other  respects ;  but  I  must 

not  be  led  into  the  statement  that  shoemaking  is  not  scientific- 
ally apprehended  in  this  country.  1  have  never  yet  been  able 
to  get  anybody  to  believe  it. 

*  This,'  said  Miss  Corke,  as  we  emerged  from  a  dark  little 
alley  occupied  by  two  unmuzzled  small  boys  and  a  dog  into  a 
dingy  rectangle,  where  the  London  light  came  down  upon  un- 
blinking rows  of  windows  in  walls  of  all  colours  that  get  the 
worse  for  wear — '  this  is  Gough  Court.  Dr.  Johnson  lived  here 
until  the  death  of  his  wife.  You  remember  that  he  had  a  wife, 
and  she  died  ?  ' 

^  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,'  I  replied. 

'  I've  no  patience  with  you  ! '  cried  Miss  Corke,  fervently. 
*  Well,  when  she  died  he  was  that  disconsolate,  in  spite  of  his 
dictionaries,  that  he  couldn't  bear  it  here  any  longer,  and  moved 
away.' 

'  I  don't  think  that  was  remarkable,'  I  said,  looking  round  ; 
to  which  Miss  Corke  replied  that  it  was  a  fine  place  in  those 
days,  and  Johnson  paid  so  many  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence 
rent  for  it  every  Lady  Day.  '  I  am  waiting,'  she  said,  with 
ironical  resignation,  '  for  you  to  ask  me  which  house.' 

'  Oh  ! '  said  L    '  Which  house  ? ' 

*That  yellowish  one,  at  the  end,  idjifcl'  said  Peter,  with 
exasperation.     '  Now,  if  you  please,  we'll  go  ! ' 

I  took  one  long  and  thoughtful  look  at  the  yellowish  house 
at  the  end,  and  tried  to  imagine  the  compilation  of  lexicons  inside 
its  walls  about  the  year  1748,  and  turned  away  feeling  that  I 
had  done  all  within  my  personal  ability  for  the  memory  of  Dr. 


258  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Johnson.  Mips  Corke,  however,  was  not  of  that  opinion.  '  He 
moved  to  Johnson's  Court  somewhat  later/  she  said,  *  which 
you  must  be  careful  to  remember  was  not  named  from  him. 
We'll  just  go  there  now.' 

'  Is  it  far  ? '  I  asked  ;  *  because  there  must  be  other  celebri- 
ties  ' 

'  'Far  !'  repeated  Miss  Corke,  with  a  withering  accent ;  '  not 
ten  minutes'  walk  !  Do  the  trams  run  everywhere  in  America? 
There  may  be  other  celebrities — London  is  a  good  place  for 
them — but  there's  only  one  Samuel  Johnson.' 

We  went  through  various  crooked  ways  to  Johnson's  Court, 
Miss  Corke  explaining  and  reviling  at  every  step.  '  We  hear^ 
she  remarked  with  fine  scorn,  '  of  intelligent  Americans  who 
come  over  here  and  apply  themselves  diligently  to  learn  London ! 
And  I've  never  met  a  citizen  of  you  yet,'  she  went  on,  ignoring 
my  threatening  parasol,  '  that  was  not  quite  satisfied  at  seeing 
one  of  Johnson's  houses — houses  he  lived  in  !  You  are  a  nation 
of  tasters,  Miss  Mamie  Wick  of  Chicago  ! '  At  which  I  declared 
myself,  for  the  honour  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  willing  to 
swallow  any  quantity  of  Dr.  Johnson,  and  we  turned  into  a  little 
paved  parallelogram  seven  times  more  desolate  than  the  first. 
Its  prevailing  idea  was  soot,  relieved  by  scraps  of  blackened  ivy 
that  twisted  along  some  of  the  window-sills.  I  once  noticed 
very  clever  ivy  decorations  in  iron  upon  a  London  balcony,  and 
always  afterwards  found  some  difficulty  in  deciding  between 
that  and  the  natural  vine,  unless  the  wind  blew.  And  1  would 
not  like  to  commit  myself  about  the  ivy  that  grew  in  Johnson's 
Court.  *  Dear  me  ! '  said  I ;  '  so  he  lived  here,  too ! '  I  do  not 
transcribe  this  remark  because  it  struck  me  as  particularly 
clever,  but  because  it  seems  to  me  to  be  the  kind  of  thing  any- 
body might  have  said  without  exciting  indignation.     But  Peter 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  259 

immediately  began  to  fulminate  again.  '  Yes,'  she  said,  *  he 
lived  here  too,  miss,  at  No.  7,  as  you  don't  appear  to  care 
to  know.  A  little  intelligent  curiosity,'  she  continued,  ap- 
parently appealing  to  the  Samuel  Johnson  chimneys,  '  would 
be  gratifying ! ' 

We  walked  around  these  precincts  several  times,  while  Miss 
Corke  told  me  interesting  stories  that  reminded  me  of  Collier's 
'  English  Literature  '  at  school,  and  asked  me  if  by  any  chance  I 
had  ever  heard  of  Boswell.  I  loved  to  find  myself  knowing 
something  occasionally,  just  to  annoy  Peter,  and  when  I  said 
certainly,  he  was  the  man  to  whom  Dr.  Johnson  owed  his  repu- 
tation, it  had  quite  the  usual  effect. 

'  We  shall  now  go  to  Bolt  Court,'  said  my  friend,  '  where 
Samuel  spent  the  last  of  his  days,  surrounded  by  a  lot  of  old 
ladies  that  I  don't  see  how  he  ever  put  up  with,  and  from  which 
he  was  carried  to  Westminster  Abbey  in  1784.  Hadn't  you 
better  put  that  down  ?  ' 

Now  Peter  Corke  would  never  have  permitted  me  to  call 
Dr.  Johnson  '  Samuel.' 

I  looked  round  Johnson's  Court  with  lingering  affection,  and 
hung  back.  'There  is  something  about  this  place,*  I  said, 
'  some  occult  attraction,  that  makes  me  hate  to  leave  it.  I 
believe,  Peter,  that  the  Past,  under  your  influence,  is  beginning 
to  affect  me  properly.  I  dislike  the  thought  of  remaining  for 
any  length  of  time  out  of  reach,  as  it  were,  of  the  memory  of 
Dr.  Johnson,' 

Peter  looked  at  me  suspiciously.  '  He  lived  at  Bolt  Court 
as  well,'  she  said. 

'  Nowhere  between  here  and  there  ? '  I  asked.  '  No  friend's 
house,  for  instance,  where  he  often  spent  the  night  ?  Where 
did  that  lady  live  who  used  to  give  him  nineteen  cups  of  tea  at 


26o  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

a  sitting  ?     Couldn't  we  pause  and  refresh  ourselves  by  looking 
at  her  portals  on  the  way  ?  * 

*  Transatlantic  impertinence,'  cried  Miss  Corke,  leading  the 
way  out,  *  is  more  than  I  can  bear ! ' 

'  But,'  I  said,  still  hanging  back,  '  about  how  far ? ' 

When  my  dear  friend  gave  vent  to  the  little  squeal  with  which 
she  received  this,  I  knew  that  her  feelings  were  worked  up  to  a 
point  where  it  was  dangerous  to  tamper  with  them,  so  I  sub- 
mitted to  Bolt  Court,  walking  with  humility  all  the  way.  When 
we  finally  arrived  I  could  see  no  intrinsic  difference  between  this 
court  and  the  others,  except  that  rather  more — recently — current 
literature  had  blown  up  from  an  adjacent  news-stall.  For  a 
person  who  changed  his  residence  so  often,  Dr.  Johnson's 
domestic  tastes  must  have  undergone  singularly  little  altera- 
tion. 

*He  went  from  here  to  Westminster  Abbey,  I  think  you 
said,'  I  remarked,  respectfully,  to  Peter. 

'  In  1784,'  said  Peter,  who  is  a  stickler  for  dates. 

*  And  has  not  moved  since  ! '  I  added,  with  some  anxiety,  just 
to  aggravate  Peter,  who  was  duly  aggravated. 

'  Well,'  I  responded,  '  we  saw  Westminster  Abbey,  you 
remember.  And  I  took  particular  notice  of  the  monument  to 
Dr.  Johnson.     We  needn't  go  ihere.^ 

*  It's  in  St.  Paul's !  '  said  Peter,  in  a  manner  which  wounded 
me,  for  if  there  is  an  unpleasant  thing  it  is  to  be  disbelieved. 

'  And  which  house  did  Dr.  Johnson  live  in  here  ? '  I 
inquired. 

'  Come,'  said  Peter,  solemnly,  '  and  I'll  show  you.' 

*  It  has  been  lost  to  posterity,'  she  continued,  with  depres- 
sion— '  burnt  in  1819.     But  we  have  the  site — there ! ' 

*0h!'  I  replied.     'We  have   the  site.     That  is— that  is 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  261 

something,  I  suppose.     But  I  don't  find  it  very  stimulating  to 
the  imagination.' 

'  You  haven't  any  ! '  remarked  Miss  Corke,  with  vehemence ; 
and  I  have  no  doubt  she  had  reason  to  think  so.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  however,  the  name  of  Samuel  Johnson  is  not  a  household 
word  in  Chicago.  We  don't  govern  our  letter-writing  by  his 
Dictionary,  and  as  to  the  '  Tatler '  and  the  '  Rambler,'  it  is 
impossible  for  people  living  in  the  United  States  to  read  up  the 
back  numbers  of  even  their  own  magazines.  It  is  true  that  we 
have  no  excuse  for  not  knowing  '  Rasselas,'  but  I've  noticed 
that  at  home  hardly  any  of  the  English  classics  have  much 
chance  against  Rider  Haggard,  and  now  that  Rudyard  Kipling 
has  arisen  it  will  be  worse  still  for  elderly  respectable  authors 
like  Dr.  Johnson.  So  that  while  I  was  deeply  interested  to 
know  that  the  great  lexicographer  had  hallowed  such  a  con- 
siderable part  of  London  with  his  residence,  I  must  confess,  to 
be  candid,  that  I  would  have  been  satisfied  with  fewer  of  his 
architectural  remains.  I  could  have  done,  for  instance,  without 
the  site,  though  I  dare  say,  as  Peter  says,  they  were  all  good 
for  me. 

Before  I  reached  Lady  Torquilin's  flat  again  that  day,  Peter 
showed  me  the  particular  window  in  Wine  Office  Court  where 
dear  little  Goldsmith  sat  deploring  the  bailiff  and  the  landlady 
when  Dr.  Johnson  took  the  '  Vicar '  away  and  sold  it  for  sixty 
pounds- -that  delightful  old  fairy  godfather  whom  everybody 
knows  so  much  better  than  as  the  author  of  '  Rasselas.'  And 
the  '  Cheshire  Cheese,'  on  the  other  side  of  the  way,  that  quaintest 
of  low-windowed  taverns,  where  the  two  sat  with  their  friends 
over  the  famous  pudding  that  is  still  served  on  the  same  day  of 
the  week.  Here  I  longed  in  especial  to  go  inside  and  inquire 
about  the  pudding,  and  when  we  might  come  down  and  have 


262  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

some ;  but  Peter  said  it  was  not  proper  for  ladies,  and  hurried 
me  on.  As  if  an}'^  impropriety  could  linger  about  a  place  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  old ! 

The  Temple  also  we  saw  that  day,  and  Goldsmith's  quiet, 
solitary  grave  in  the  shadow  of  the  old  Knights'  Church,  more 
interesting  and  lovable  there,  somehow,  than  it  would  be  in  the 
crowd  at  Westminster.  Miss  Peter  Corke  was  entirely  delight- 
ful in  the  Temple,  whether  she  talked  of  Goldsmith's  games  and 
dancing  over  Blackstone's  sedate  head  in  Brick  Court,  or  of 
Elizabeth  sitting  on  the  wide  platform  at  the  end  of  the  Middle 
Temple  Hall  at  the  first  performance  of '  Twelfth  Night,'  where, 
somewhere  beneath  those  dusky  oak  rafters,  Shakespeare  made 
another  critic.  Peter  never  talked  scandal  in  the  present  tense, 
on  principle,  but  a  more  interesting  gossip  than  she  was  of  a 
century  back  I  never  had  a  cup  of  tea  with,  which  we  got  not 
so  very  far  from  the  Cock  Tavern  in  Fleet  Street ;  and  I  had 
never  known  before  that  Mr.  Pepys  was  a  flirt. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


263 


XXV 


R.  MAFFERTON  frequently 
expressed  his  regret  that  al- 
most immediately  after  my 
arrival  in  London — in  fact, 
during  the  time  of  my  dis- 
appearance from  the  Metro- 
pole,  and  just  as  he  became 
aware  of  my  being  with  Lady 
Torquilin —  his  mother  and 
two  sisters  had  been  obliged 
to  go  to  the  Riviera  on  ac- 
count of  one  of  the  Misses 
MafTerton's  health.  One 
afternoon — the  day  before 
they  left,  I  believe — Lady  Torquilin  and  I,  coming  in.  found  a 
large  assortment  of  cards  belonging  to  the  family,  which  were 
to  be  divided  between  us,  apparently.  But,  as  Mr.  Charles 
Mafferton  was  the  only  one  of  them  left  in  town,  my  acquaint- 
ance with  the  MafFertons  had  made  very  little  progress,  except, 
of  course,  with  the  portly  old  cousin  I  have  mentioned  before, 
who  was  a  lord,  and  who  stayed  in  London  through  the  entire 
session  of  Parliament.  This  cousin  and  I  became  so  well  ac- 
quainted, in  spite  of  his  being  a  lord,  that  we  used  to  ask  each 
other  conundrums.  '  What  do  they  call  a  black  cat  in  London?' 
was  a  favourite  one  of  his.  But  I  had  the  advantage  of  Lord 
18 


264  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

MafFert^n  here,  for  he  always  forgot  that  he  had  asked  the  same 
conundrum  the  last  time  we  met,  and  thought  me  tremendously 
clever  when  I  answered,  '  Puss,  puss ! '  But,  as  I  have  said 
before,  there  were  very  few  particulars  in  which  this  nobleman 
gratified  my  inherited  idea  of  what  a  lord  ought  to  be. 

One  of  the  Misses  Mafferton — the  one  who  enjoyed  good 
health — had  very  kindly  taken  the  trouble  to  write  to  me  from 
the  Riviera  a  nice  friendly  letter,  saying  how  sorry  they  all  were 
that  we  did  not  meet  before  they  left  Town,  and  asking  me  to 
make  them  a  visit  as  soon  as  they  returned  in  June.  The  letter 
went  on  to  say  that  they  had  shared  their  brother's  anxiety 
about  me  for  some  time,  but  felt  quite  comfortable  in  the  thought 
of  leaving  me  so  happily  situated  with  Lady  Torqnilin,  an  old 
friend  of  their  own,  and  was  it  not  singular  ?  Miss  Mafferton 
exclaimed,  in  her  pointed  handwriting,  signing  herself  mine 
ever  affectionately,  E.  F.  Mafferton.  I  thought  it  was  certainly 
singularly  nice  of  her  to  write  to  me  like  that,  a  perfect  stranger; 
and  while  T  composed  an  answer  in  the  most  cordial  terms  I 
could,  I  thought  of  all  I  had  heard  about  the  hearty  hospitality 
of  the  English — '  when  once  you  know  them.' 

When  I  told  Mr.  Mafferton  I  had  heard  from  his  sister,  and 
how  much  pleasure  the  letter  had  given  me,  he  blushed  in  the 
most  violent  and  unaccountable  manner,  but  seemed  pleased 
nevertheless.  It  was  odd  to  see  Mr.  Mafferton  discomposed, 
and  it  discomposed  me.  I  could  not  in  the  least  understand 
why  his  sister's  politeness  to  a  friend  of  his  should  embarrass 
Mr.  Mafferton,  and  was  glad  when  he  said  he  had  no  doubt 
Eleanor  and  I  would  be  great  friends,  and  changed  the  subject. 
But  it  was  about  this  time  that  another  invitation  from  relatives 
of  Mr.  Mafferton's  living  in  Berkshire  gave  me  my  one  always- 
to-be -remembered  experience  of  the  country  in  England.     Lady 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  .    25$ 

Torquilin  was  invited  too,  but  the  invitation  was  for  a  Tuesday 
and  Wednesday  particularly  full  of  engagements  for  her. 

*  Couldn't  we  write  and  say  we'd  rather  come  next  week  ?  * 
I  suggested. 

Lady  Torquilin  looked  severely  horrified.  ^  I  should  think 
not\'  she  replied.  *  You're  not  in  America,  child.  I  hardly 
know  these  people  at  all ;  moreover,  it's  you  they  want  to  see, 
and  not  me  in  the  least.  So  I'll  just  send  my  apologies,  and  tell 
Mrs.  Stacy  you're  an  able-bodied  young  woman  who  gets  about 
wonderfully  by  herself,  and  that  she  may  expect  you  by  the 
train  she  proposes — and  see  that  you  don't  outstay  your  invita- 
tion, young  lady,  or  I  shall  be  in  a  fidget ! '  And  Lady  Torquilin 
gave  me  her  cheek  to  kiss,  and  went  away  and  wrote  to  Mrs. 
Stacy  as  she  had  said. 

An  hour  or  two  beyond  London  the  parallel  tracks  of  the 
main  line  stretched  away  in  the  wrong  direction  for  me,  and 
my  train  sped  down  them,  leaving  me  for  a  few  minutes 
undecided  how  to  proceed.  The  little  station  seemed  to 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  anything  but  the  main  line. 
It  sat  there  in  the  sun  and  cultivated  its  flower-beds,  and 
waited  for  the  big  trains  to  come  thundering  by,  and  had  no 
concern  but  that.  Presently,  however,  I  observed,  standing  all 
by  itself  beside  a  row  of  tulips  under  a  clay  bank  on  the  other 
side  of  the  bridge,  the  most  diminutive  thing  in  railway  trans- 
port I  had  ever  seen.  It  was  quite  complete,  engine  and  cab, 
and  luggage-van  and  all,  with  its  passenger  accommodation  pro- 
perly divided  into  first,  second,  and  third  class,  and  it  stood 
there  placidly,  apparently  waiting  for  somebody.  And  I  followed 
my  luggage  over  the  bridge  with  the  quiet  conviction  that  this 
was  the  train  for  Pinbury,   and  that  it  was  waiting  for  mo. 


266  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

There  was  nobody  else.  And  after  the  porter  liad  stowed  my 
effects  carefully  away  in  the  van  he  also  departed,  leaving  the  Pin- 
bury  train  in  my  charge.  I  sat  in  it  for  a  while  and  admired  the 
tulips,  and  wondered  how  soon  it  would  rain,  and  fixed  my  veil, 
and  looked  over  the  '  Daily  Graphic'  again,  but  nothing  hap- 
])nnecl.  It  occurred  to  me  that  possibly  the  little  Pinbury  train 
had  been  forgotten,  and  I  got  out.  There  was  no  one  on  the 
platform,  but  just  outside  the  station  I  saw  a  rusty  old  coachman 
sealed  on  the  box  of  an  open  landau,  so  I  spoke  to  him.  'Does 
tliat  train  go  to  Pinbury?'  I  asked.  He  said  it  did.  '  Does 
it  go  to-day?'  I  inquired  further.  He  looked  amused  at  my 
ignorance.  '  Oh  yes,  lady,'  he  replied ;  '  she  goes  every  day — 
twice.  But  she  'as  to  wait  for  two  hup  trains  yet.  She'll  be 
hoff  in  about  'alf  an  hour  now  !  ' — this  reassuringly. 

When  we  did  start  it  took  us  exactly  six  minutes  to  get  to 
Pinbury,  and  I  was  sorry  I  had  nqt  tipped  the  engine-driver  and 
got  him  to  run  down  with  me  and  back  again  while  he  was 
waiting.  Wliatever  they  may  say  to  the  contrary,  there  are  few 
things  in  England  that  please  Americans  more  than  the  omni- 
potence of  the  tip. 

Two  of  the  Stacy  young  ladies  met  me  on  the  Pinbury  plat- 
form, and* gave  me  quite  the  most  charming  welcome  I  have 
had  in  England.  With,  the  exception  of  Peter  Corke— and 
Peter  would  be  exceptional  anywhere  — I  had  nearly  always 
failed  to  reach  any  sympathetic  relation  with  the  young  ladies 
I  had  come  in  contact  with  in  London.  Perhaps  this  was  be- 
cause I  did  not  see  any  of  them  very  often  or  very  long  together, 
and  seldom  without  the  presence  of  some  middle-aged  lady  who 
controlled  the  conversation  ;  but  the  occasions  of  my  meeting 
with  the  London  girl  had  never  sufficed  to  overcome  the  natural 
curiosiry  with  which  she  usually  regarded  me.     I  rejoiced  when 


268  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

I  saw  that  it  would  be  different  witli  Miss  Stacy  and  Miss' 
Dorothy  Stacy,  and  probably  with  the  other  Misses  Stacy  at 
home.  They  regarded  me  with  outspoken  iut;erestj  but  not  at 
all  with  fear.  They  were  very  polite,  but  their  politeness  was 
of  the  gay,  unconscious  sort,  which  only  impresses  you  when  you 
think  of  it  afterwards.  Delightfully  pretty,  though  lacking 
that  supreme  inertia  of  expression  that  struck  me  so  often  as 
the  finishing  touch  upon  London  beauty,  and  gracefully  tall, 
without  that  impressiveness  of  development  1  had  observed  in 
town.  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy's  personality  gave  me  quite  a  new 
pleasure.  It  was  invested  in  round  pink  cheeks  and  clear  grey 
eyes,  among  other  things  that  made  it  most  agreeable  to  look  at 
her ;  and  yellow  hair  that  went  rippling  down  her  back  ;  and 
the  perfect  freshness  and  unconsciousness  of  her  beauty,  with 
her  height  and  her  gentle  muscularity,  reminded  one  of  an 
immature  goddess  of  Oljmpia,  if  sudh  a  person  could  be  imagined 
growing  up.  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy  was  sixteen  past,  and  in  a 
later  moment  of  confidence  she  told  me  that  she  lived  in  dread 
of  being  obliged  to  turn  up  her  hair  and  wear  irretrievably  long 
*  frocks.*  I  found  this  unreasonable,  but  charming.  In  America 
all  joys  are  grown  up,  and  the  brief  period  of  pinafores  is  one  of 
probation. 

We  drove  away  in  a  little  brown  dogcart  behind  a  little 
brown  pony  into  the  English  country,  talking  a  great  deal.  Miss 
Stacy  drove,  and  I  sat  beside  her,  while  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy 
occupied  the  seat  in  the  rear  when  she  was  not  alighting  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  to  pick  up  the  Pinbury  commissions,  which 
did  not  travel  well,  or  the  pony's  foot,  to  see  if  he  had  a  stone 
in  it.  The  pony  objected  with  mild  viciousness  to  having  his 
foot  picked  up ;  but  Miss  Dorothy  did  not  take  his  views  into 
account  at  all ;  up  came  the  foot  and  out  came  the  stone.      The 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  269 

average  American  girl  would  have  driven  helplessly  along  until 
she  overtook  a  man,  I  think. 

I  never  saw  a  finer  quality  of  mercy  anywhere  than  the  Stacy 
young  ladies  exhibited  toward  their  beast.  When  we  came  to 
a  rising  bit  of  road  Miss  Dorothy  invariably  leaped  down  and 
walked  as  well  as  the  pony,  to  save  him  fatigue ;  when  a  slight 
declivity  presented  itself  he  walked  again  solemnly  to  the 
bottom,  occasionally  being  led.  He  expected  this  attention 
always  at  such  times,  pausing  at  the  top  and  looking  round  for 
it,  and  when  it  was  withheld  his  hind-quarters  assumed  an 
aggrieved  air  of  irresponsibility.  When  Miss  Stacy  wished  to 
increase  his  rate  of  going  by  a  decimal  point,  she  flicked  him 
gently,  selecting  a  spot  where  communication  might  be  made  with 
his  brain  at  least  inconvenience  to  himself;  but  she  never  did  any- 
thing that  would  really  interfere  with  his  enjoyment  of  the  drive. 

Of  course,  Miss  Stacy  wanted  to  know  what  I  thought  of 
England  in  a  large  general  way,  but  before  I  had  time  to  do 
more  than  mention  a  few  heads  under  which  I  had  gathered  my 
impressions  she  particularised  with  reference  to  the  scenery. 
Miss  Stacy  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  English  scenery,  with 
a  sweet  and  ladylike  confidence,  including  most  of  what  we  were 
driving  through,  with  a  graceful  flourish  of  her  whip.  She  said 
I  might  as  well  confess  that  we  hadn't  such  nice  scenery  in 
America.  '  Grander,  you  know — more  mountains  and  lakes  and 
things,'  said  Miss  Stac}^,  *  but  not  realhj  so  nice,  now,  have 
you  ?  '  No,  I  said  ;  unfortunately  it  was  about  the  only  thing 
we  couldn't  manage  to  take  back  with  us  ;  at  which  Miss  Stacy 
astonished  me  with  the  fact  that  she  knew  I  was  going  to  be 
a  treat  to  her — so  original — and  I  must  be  simply  craving  my 
tea,  and  it  was  good  of  me  to  come,  and  flicked  the  pony  severely, 
so  that  he  trotted  for  almost  half  a  mile  without  a  pause. 


270  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

But  we  returned  to  the  scenery,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  be 
thought  unappreciative,  and  the  Misses  Sf acy  were  good  enough 
to  be  interested  in  the  points  that  I  found  particularly  novel 
and  pleasing — the  flowering  hedges  that  leaned  up  against  the 
fields  by  the  wayside,  and  the  quantities  of  little  birds  that 
chirruped  in  and  out  of  them,  and  the  trees,  all  twisted  round 
with  ivy,  and  especially  the  rabbits,  that  bobbed  about  in  the 
meadows  and  turned  up  their  little  white  tails  with  as  much 
naivete  as  if  the  world  were  a  kitchen-garden  closed  to  the 
public.  The  '  bunnies,'  as  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy  called  them, 
were  a  source  of  continual  delight  to  me.  I  could  never  refrain 
from  exclaiming,  '  There's  another ! '  much  to  the  young  ladies' 
amusement.  '  You  see,'  explained  Miss  Dorothy  in  apology, 
'  they're  not  new  to  us,  the  dear  sweet  things !  One  might 
say  one  has  been  brought  up  with  them,  one  knows  all  their 
little  ways.  But  they  are  loves,  and  it  is  nice  of  you  to  like 
them.' 

The  pony  stopped  altogether  on  one  little  rise,  as  if  he  wert^ 
accustomed  to  it,  to  allow  us  to  take  a  side-look  across  the 
grey-green  fields  to  where  they  lost  themselves  in  the  blue  dis- 
tance, in  an  effort  to  climb.  It  was  a  lovely  landscape,  full  of 
pleasant  thoughts,  ideally  still  and  gently  conscious.  There  was 
the  glint  of  a  river  in  it,  white  in  the  sun,  with  twisting  lines 
of  round-headed  willows  marking  which  way  it  went;  and 
other  trees  in  groups  and  rows  threw  soft  shadows  across  the 
contented  fields.  These  trees  never  blocked  the  view ;  one 
could  always  see  over  and  beyond  them  into  other  peaceful 
stretches,  with  other  clumps  and  lines,  greyer  and  smaller  as  they 
neared  the  line  where  the  low,  blue  sky  thickened  softly  into 
clouds  and  came  closer  down.  An  occasional  spire,  here  and 
there  a  farmhouse,  queer,  old-fashioned  hayricks  gossiping  in 


k 


AY  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  271 

the  comers  of  the  fields,  cows,  horses,  crows.  All  as  if  it  had 
been  painted  bj  a  tenderly  conscientious  artist,  who  economised 
his  carmines  and  allowed  himself  no  caprices  except  in  the 
tattered  hedge,  full  of  May,  in  the  foreground ;  all  as  if  Nature 
had  understood  a  woman's  chief  duty  to  be  tidy  and  delectable, 
except  for  this  ragged  hem  of  her  embroidered  petticoat.  I 
dare  say  it  would  not  seem  so  to  you  ;  but  the  country  as  I  had 
known  it  in  America  had  been  an  expanse  of  glowing  colour, 
diversified  by  a  striking  pattern  of  snake-fences,  relieved  by 
woods  that  nobody  had  ever  planted,  and  adorned  by  the  bare, 
commanding  brick  residences  of  the  agricultural  population. 
Consequently,  delightful  as  I  found  this  glimpse  of  English 
scenery,  I  could  not  combat  the  idea  that  it  had  all  been  care- 
fully and  beautifully  made,  and  was  usually  kept  under  cotton- 
wool. You  would  understand  this  if  you  knew  the  important 
part  played  in  our  rural  districts  by  the  American  stump. 

'  Isn't  it  lovely?'  asked  Miss  Stacy,  with  enthusiasm.  Two 
cows  in  the  middle  distance  suddenly  disappeared  behind  a  hay- 
rick, and  for  a  moment  the  values  of  the  landscape  became  con- 
fused. Still,  1  was  able  to  say  that  it  was  lovely,  and  so  neat — 
which  opinion  I  was  obliged  to  explain  to  Miss  Stacy,  as  I 
have  to  you,  while  the  brown  pony  took  us  thoughtfully  on. 


272 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XXVI 


DROVE   in   at    the  gates   of 
Hallington     House     as     one 
might  drive  into  the  scene  of 
a    dear   old    dream — a  dream 
that  one  has  half- believed  and 
half-doubted,    and    wholly 
'l^^'^t-'       loved,  and   dreamed  again 
all  one's  life   long.     There 
it  stood,    as  I   had  always 
wondered   if  I   might  not 
see    it    standing    in    that 
far  day  when  I  should  go  to 
England,  behind  its  high  brick  wall,  in  the  midst  of  its  ivies 
and  laburnums  and  elms  and  laurel-bushes,  looking  across  where 
its  lawns  dipped  into  its  river  at  soft  green  meadows  sloping  to 
the  west — a  plain  old  solid  grey  stone  English  country-house  so 
long  occupied  with  the  birthdays  of  other  people  that  it  had 
quite  forgotten  its  own.     Very  big  and  very  solid,  without  any 
pretentiousness  of  Mansard  roof,  or  bow  window,  or  balcony,  or 
verandah  ;  its  simple  story  of  strength  and  shelter  and  home  and 
hospitality  was  plain  to  me  between  its  wide-open  gates  and  its 
wide-open  doors,  and  I  loved  it  from  that  moment. 

It  was  the  same  all  through — the  Stacys  realised  the  England 
of  my  imagination  to  me  most  sweetly  and  completely ;  I  found, 


A.V  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  273 

that  there  had  been  no  mistake.  Mrs.  Stacy  realised  it,  pretty  and 
fresh  and  fair  at  fifty,  plump  and  motherly  in  her  black  cashmere 
and  lace,  full  of  pleasant  greetings  and  responsible  inquiries.  So 
did  the  Squire,  coming  out  of  his  study  to  ask,  with  courteous 
old-fashioned  solicitude,  how  I  had  borne  the  fatigue  of  the 
journey — such  a  delightful  old  Squire,  leftover  by  accident  from 
the  last  century,  with  his  high-bred  phraseology  and  simple 
dignity  and  great  friendliness.  So  did  the  rest  of  the  Stacy 
daughters,  clustering  round  their  parents  and  their  guest 
and  the  teapot,  talking  gaily  with  their  rounded  English 
accent  of  all  manner  of  things — the  South  Kensington 
Museum,  the  Pinbury  commissions,  the  prospects  for  tennis. 
Presently  I  found  myself  taken  through  just  such  narrow  cor 
ridors  and  down  just  such  unexpected  steps  as  I  would  have 
hoped  for,  to  my  room,  and  left  there.  I  remember  how  a  soft 
wind  came  puffing  in  at  the  little  low,  tiny-paned  window  flung 
back  on  its  hinges,  swelling  out  the  muslin  curtains  and  bring- 
ing with  it  the  sweetest  sound  I  heard  in  England — a  cry  that  was 
quite  new  and  strange,  and  yet  came  into  me  from  the  quiet 
hedges  of  the  nestling  world  outside,  as  I  sat  there  bewitched 
by  it,  with  a  plaintive  familiarity — '  07/ckoo  !'...'  Cuckoo ! ' 
I  must  have  heard  it  and  loved  it  years  ago,  when  the  Wicks 
lived  in  England,  through  the  ears  of  my  ancestors.  Then  I 
discovered  that  the  room  was  full  of  a  dainty  scent  that  I  had 
not  known  before,  and  traced  it  to  multitudinous  little  round 
flower-bunches,  palest  yellow  and  palest  green,  that  stood  about 
in  everything  that  would  hold  them — fresh  and  pure  and  deli- 
cious, all  the  tender  soul  of  the  spring  in  them,  all  the  fairness 
of  the  meadows  and  the  love  of  the  shy  English  sun.  Ah,  the 
charm  of  it!  It  is  almost  worth  while  being  brought  up  in 
Chicago  to  come  fresh  to  cuckoos  and  cowslips,  and  learn  their 


274  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

sweet  meaning  wlien  you  are  grown  up  and  can  understand  it. 
I  mean,  of  course,  entirely  apart  from  the  inestimable  advan- 
tages of  a  Republican  form  of  Government,  female  emancipation, 
jind  the  climate  of  Illinois.  We  have  no  cowslips  in  Chicago,  and 
no  cuckoos;  and  the  cable  cars  do  not  seem  altogether  to  make 
up  for  them.  I  couldn't  help  wishing,  as  I  leaned  through  my 
low  little  window  into  the  fragrant  peace  outside,  that  Nature 
had  taken  a  little  more  time  with  America. 

*  Cwckoo ! '  from  the  hedge  again  !  I  could  not  go  till  the 
answer  came  from  the  toppling  elm-bonghs  in  the  field  corner, 
'  Cifcckoo ! '     And  in  another  minute,  if  I  listened,  I  should  hear 


-,       ....  ^       X.KJl.^.-.V>V», 


it  agam. 


Down  below,  in  the  meantime,  out  came  two  tid}^  httle 
maids  in  cap  and  apron,  and  began  to  weed  and  to  potter  about 
two  tidy  little  plots — their  own  little  gardens  anybody  might 
know  by  the  solicitude  and  the  comparisons  they  indulged  in — 
the  freedom,  too,  with  which  they  pulled  what  pleased  them- 
selves. It  was  pretty  to  see  the  little  maids,  and  I  fell  to  con- 
jecturing such  a  scene  in  connection  with  the  domestic  duchess 
of  Chicago,  but  without  success.  Her  local  interest  could  never 
be  sufficiently  depended  upon,  for  one  thing.  Marguerite  might 
plant,  and  Irene  might  water,  but  Arabella  Maud  would  cer- 
tainly gather  the  fruits  of  their  labour,  if  she  kept  her  place  long 
enough.  And  I  doubt  if  the  social  duties  of  any  of  these  ladies 
would  leave  them  time  for  such  idylls. 

*  Ci^tikoo  ! '  The  bird  caught  it  from  the  piping  of  the  very 
first  lover's  very  first  love-dream.  How  well  he  must  have 
listened  !  .  .  .  '  Owckoo ! ' 

I  bade  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy  coriae  in  when  I  heard  her  knock 
and  voice ;  and  she  seemed  to  bring  with  her,  in  her  innocent 
strength  and  youth  and  pinkness,  a  very  fair  and  harmonious 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


275 


counterpart  of  the  cowslips  and  the  cackoos.     She  came  to  know 
if  1  wasn't  comingr  down  to  tea.     '  Listen  ! '  I  said,  as  the  sweet 


!  !^;-.6i 


I     )     I  f    lll^^^^^J 


iMiiS' 


19 


N 


'A  'Xh 


TWO    TIDY    LITTLE    MAIDS.' 


cry  came  again.     '  i  was  waiting  till  he  had  finished.'     It  was 
better  than  no  excuse  at  all. 


276  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

*  I  think  I  can  show  you  from  here  where  I  suspect  they  have 
stolen  a  nest,  lazy  things ! '  answered  Miss  Dorothy,  sympatheti- 
cally, and  she  slipped  her  arm  round  ray  waist  as  we  looked  out 
of  the  window  together  in  the  suspected  direction.  *  Then  you 
don't  find  them  tiresome  ?  Some  people  do,  you  know.'  *  No,'  I 
said,  '  I  don't.'  And  then  Miss  Dorothy  confided  to  me  that  she 
was  very  glad ;  '  for,  you  know,'  she  said,  '  one  canH  like  people 
who  find  cuckoos  tiresome,'  and  we  concluded  that  we  really  must 
go  down  to  tea.  At  that  point,  however,  I  was  obliged  to  ask 
Miss  Dorothy  to  wait  until  I  did  a  little  towards  improving  my 
appearance.  I  had  quite  forgotten,  between  the  cuckoos  and  the 
cowslips,  that  I  had  come  up  principally  to  wash  my  face. 

*  You  met  our  cousin  on  the  ship  crossing  the  Atlantic, 
didn't  you  ? '  the  third  Miss  Stacy  remarked,  enthusiastically, 
over  the  teapot.  ^  How  delightfully  romantic  to  make  a—  a 
friend — a  friend  like  that,  I  mean,  on  a  ship  in  the  middle  of 
the  ocean !  Didn't  you  always  feel  perfectly  comfortable  after- 
wards, as  if,  no  matter  what  happened,  he  would  be  sure  to  save 
you?' 

*  Kitty ! '  said  Mrs.  Stacy  from  the  sofa,  in  a  tone  of  helpless 
rebuke.  ^  Mother,  darling  !  '  said  Kitty,  '  I  do  beg  your  pardon  ! 
Your  daughter  always  speaks  first  and  thinks  afterwards,  doesn't 
she,  sweetest  mother!  But  you  must  have  had  that  feeling,' 
Miss  Stacy  continued  to  me  ;  'I  know  you  had  ! ' 

^  Oh,  no  ! '  I  returned.  It  was  rather  an  awkward  situation 
— I  had  no  wish  to  disparage  Miss  Stacy's  cousin's  heroism, 
which,  nevertheless,  I  had  not  relied  upon  in  the  least.  'I 
don't  think  I  thought  about  being  drowned,'  I  said. 

'  That  proves  it ! '  she  cried  in  triumph.  '  Your  confidence 
was  so  perfect  that  it  was  unconscious !  Sweetest  mother — 
there,  I  won't  say  another  word ;  not   another   syllable,  mother 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  277 

mine,  shall  pass  your  daughter's  lips!  But  one  d>oes  like  to 
show  one's  self  in  the  right,  doesn't  one.  Miss  Wick?' — and 
Mrs.  Stacy  surrendered  to  an  impulsive  volume  of  embraces 
which  descended  from  behind  the  sofa,  chiefly  upon  the  back  of 
her  neck. 

How  pleasant  it  was,  that  five  o'clock  tea-drinking  in  the  old- 
fashioned  drawing-room,  with  the  jessamine  nodding  in  at  the 
window  and  all  the  family  cats  gathered  upon  the  hearthrug — 
five  in  number,  with  one  kitten.  The  Stacy's  compromise  in 
the  perpetually-recurring  problem  of  new  kittens  was  to  keep 
only  the  representative  of  a  single  generation  for  family  affec- 
tion and  drawing-room  privileges.  The  rest  were  obscurely 
brought  up  in  the  stables  and  located  as  early  as  was  en- 
tirely humane  with  respectable  cottagers,  or  darkly  spoken  of 
as  '  kitchen  cats.'  There  had  been  only  one  break  in  the  line 
of  posterity  that  gravely  licked  itself  on  the  rug,  or  besought 
small  favours  rubbingly  with  purrs — made  by  a  certain  Satanella, 
who  aie  her  hittens  !  and  suffered  banishment  in  consequence. 
But  this  was  confided  to  me  in  undertones  by  the  second  Miss 
Stacy,  who  begged  me  not  to  mention  the  matter  to  Dorothy. 
*  We  don't  talk  about  it  often,  for  Satanella  was  her  cat,  you 
know,  and  she  can't  get  over  her  behaving  so  dreadfully.' 
Each  cat  had  its  individual  history,  and  to  the  great-great- 
grandmother  of  them  attached  the  thrilling  tale,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  of  having  once  only  escaped  hanging  by  her  own  mus- 
cular endurance  and  activity ;  but  none  bore  so  dj,rk  a  blot  as 
covered  the  memory  of  Satanella.  Perhaps  it  is  partly  owing 
to  my  own  fondness  for  pussies,  but  ever  since  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  Stacys  I  must  confess  to  disparaging  a 
family  with  no  cats  in  it. 

It   was   naturally  Dorothy  who    took  me  out    to   see   the 


278  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

garden — sweet,  shy  Dorothy,  who  seemed  so  completely  to  have 
grown  in  a  garden  that  Lad}^  Torquilin,  when  she  brought  her 
pink  cheeks  afterwards  to  gladden  tJie  llat  in  Cadogan 
Mansions,  dubbed  her  '  the  Wild  Rose '  at  once.  At  any  rate, 
Dorothy  had  always  lived  just  here  beside  her  garden,  and 
never  anywhere  else,  for  she  told  me  so  in  explaining  her  affec- 
tion for  it.  I  thought  of  the  number  of  times  we  had  moved  in 
Chicago,  and  sighed. 

It  was  not  a  very  methodical  garden,  Dorothy  remarked  in 
apology — the  dear  sweet  things  mostly  came  up  of  their  own 
accord  year  after  year,  and  the  only  ambition  Peter  entertained 
towards  it  was  to  keep  it  reasonably  weeded.  A  turn  in  the 
walk  disclosed  Peter  at  the  moment  with  a  wheelbarrow — the 
factotum  of  garden  and  stable,  a  solemn  bumpkin  of  twenty, 
with  a  large  red  face  and  a  demeanour  of  extreme  lethargy. 
His  countenance  broke  into  something  like  a  deferential  grin  as 
he  passed  us.  '  Can  you  make  him  understand  ? '  I  asked 
Miss  Dorothy.  ^  Oh,  I  should  think  so ! '  she  replied.  '  He  is 
very  intelligent ! '  From  his  appearance  I  should  not  have  said 
so.  There  was  nothing  '  sharp,'  as  we  say  in  America,  about 
Peter,  though  afterwards  I  heard  him  whistling  '  Two  lovely 
black  eyes'  with  a  volume  of  vigorous  expression  that  made  one 
charge  him  with  private  paradoxical  sweethearting.  But  I  was 
new  to  the  human  product  after  many  generations  of  the  fields 
and  hedges. 

It  was  a  square  garden,  shut  in  from  the  road  and  the 
neighbours  by  that  high  old  red-brick  wall.  A  tennis-court  lay 
in  the  middle  in  the  sun ;  the  house  broke  into  a  warmly-tinted 
gable,  red-roofed  and  plastered  and  quaint,  that  nestled  over 
the  little  maids  in  the  larder,  I  think,  at  one  end;  a  tall  elm 
and  a  spreading  horse-chestnut  helped  the  laurestinus  bushes  to 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  279 

shut  it  in  from  the  lawns  and  the  drive  and  any  eyes  that  might 
not  fall  upon  it  tenderly.  We  sat  down  upon  the  garden-seat 
that  somebody  had  built  round  the  elm,  Dorothy  and  I,  and  I 
looked  at  the  garden  as  one  turns  the  pages  of  an  old  story- 
book. There  were  the  daisies  in  the  grass,  to  begin  with,  all 
over,  by  hundreds  and  thousands,  turning  their  bright  little 
white-and-yellow  faces  up  at  me  and  saying  something — I  don't 
know  quite  what.  I  should  have  had  to  listen  a  long  time  to  be 
sure  it  was  anything  but  '  Don't  step  on  me !  '  but  I  had  a  vague 
feeling  that  every  now  and  then  one  said,  '  Can't  you 
remember?'  Dorothy  remarked  it  was  really  disgraceful,  so 
many  of  them,  and  Peter  should  certainly  mow  them  all  down 
in  the  morning — by  which  her  pretty  lips  gave  me  a  keen  pang. 

*  Oh  !  '  I    said,  '  what    a  pity  !  '      '  Yes,'  she  said,  relentingly, 

*  they  are  dear  things,  but  they're  very  untidy.  The  worst  of 
Peter  is,'  she  went  on,  with  a  shade  of  reflection,  '  that  we  are 
obliged  to  keep  at  him.' 

I  dare  say  you  don't  think  much  of  daisies  in  the  grass — you 
have  always  had  so  many.  You  should  have  been  brought  up 
on  dandelions  instead — in  Chicago ! 

Then  there  were  all  the  sweet  spring  English  flowers  grow- 
ing in  little  companies  under  the  warm  brick  wall — violets  and 
pansies  and  yellow  daffodils,  and  in  one  corner  a  tall,  brave 
array  of  anemones,  red  and  purple  and  white.  And  against 
the  wall  rose-bushes  and  an  ancient  fig-tree ;  and  farther  on, 
all  massed  and  tangled  in  its  own  dark-green  shadows,  the 
ivy,  pouring  out  its  abundant  heart  to  drape  and  soften  the 
other  angle,  and  catch  the  golden  rain  of  the  laburnum  that 
hung  over.  And  this  English  Dorothy,  with  her  yellow  hair 
and  young-eyed  innocence,  the  essence  and  the  flower  of 
it  all. 

19 


28o  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

Near  the  stables,  in  our  roundabout  ramble  to  the  kitchen- 
garden,  Dorothy  showed  me,  with  seriousness,  a  secluded  corner, 
holding  two  small  mounds  and  two  small  wooden  tablets.  On 
one  the  head  of  a  spaniel  was  carved  painstakingly  and  painted, 
with  the  inscription,  '  Here  Lies  a  Friend.'  The  second  tablet 
had  no  bas-relief  and  a  briefer  legend :  '  Here  Lies  Another.' 
'  Jack,'  said  she,  with  a  shade  of  retrospection, '  and  Jingo.  Jack 
died  in — let  me  see — eighteen  eighty-five.  Jingo  two  years 
later,  in  eighteen  eighty-seven.  I  didn't  do  Jingo's  picture,' 
Miss  Dorothy  went  on,  pensively.  '  It  wasn't  really  necessary, 
they  were  so  very  much  alike.' 

About  the  kitchen-garden  I  remember  only  how  rampant 
the  gooseberry-bushes  were,  how  portentous  the  cabbages,  and 
how  the  whole  Vegetable  Kingdom  combined  failed  to  keep  out 
a  trailing  company  of  early  pink  roses  that  had  wandered  in 
from  politer  regions  to  watch  th^  last  of  the  sunset  across  the 
river  and  beyond  the  fields. 

'  I  have  a  letter  to  send,'  said  Miss  Dorothy,  '  and  as  we  go 
to  the  post-office  you  shall  see  Hallington.'  So  we  went  through 
the  gates  that  closed  upon  this  dear  inner  world  into  the  wind- 
ing road.  It  led  us  past  '  The  Green  Lion,'  amiably  couchant 
upon  a  creaking  sign  that  swung  from  a  yellow  cottage,  past  a 
cluster  of  little  houses  with  great  brooding  roofs  of  straw,  past 
the  village  school,  in  a  somewhat  bigger  cottage,  in  one  end 
whereof  the  schoolmistress  dwelt  and  looked  out  upon  her 
lavender  and  rue,  to  the  post-office  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  where 
the  little  woman  inside,  in  a  round  frilled  cap  and  spectacles, 
and  her  shawl  pinned  tidily  across  her  breast,  sold  buttons  and 
thread,  and  '  sweeties '  and  giuger  ale,  and  other  things.  My 
eye  lighted  with  surprise  upon  a  row  of  very  familiar  wedge- 
ehaped  tins,  all  blue  and  red.     They  contained  corned  beef, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  281 

and  they  came  from  Chicago.  '  I  know  the  gentleman  who 
puts  those  up  very  well,'  I  said  to  Miss  Dorothy  Stacy  ;  '  Mr. 
W.  P.  Hitt,  of  Chicago.  He  is  a  great  friend  of  poppa's. 
'  Really  ! '  said  she,  with  slight  embarrassment.  '  Does  he — does 
he  do  it  himself?     How  clever  of  him ! ' 

On  the  way  back  through  the  village  of  Hallington  we  met 
several  stolid  little  girls  by  ones  and  twos  and  threes,  and  every 
little  girl,  as  we  approached,  suddenly  lowered  her  person  and 
her  petticoats  by  about  six  inches  and  brought  it  up  again  in  a 
perfectly  straight  line,  and  without  any  change  of  expression 
whatever.  It  seemed  to  me  a  singular  and  most  amusing 
demonstration,  and  Miss  Dorothy  explained  that  it  was  a  curt- 
sey— a  very  proper  mark  of  respect.  'But  surely,'  she  said, 
'  your  little  cottager  girls  in  America  curtsey  to  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  they  meet ! '  And  Miss  Dorothy  found  it  difficult  to 
understand  just  why  the  curtsey  was  not  a  popular  genuflection 
in  America,  even  if  we  had  any  little  cottager  girls  to  practise 
it,  which  I  did  not  think  we  had,  exactly. 

Later  on  we  gathered  round  a  fire,  with  the  cats,  under  the 
quaint  old  portraits  of  very  straight-backed  dead-and-gone 
ladies  Stacy  in  the  drawing-room,  and  1  told  all  I  knew  about 
the  Apache  Indians  and  Niagara  Falls.  I  think  I  also  set  the 
minds  of  the  Stacy  family  at  rest  about  the  curious  idea  that 
we  want  to  annex  Canada — they  had  some  distant  relations 
there,  I  believe,  whom  they  did  not  want  to  see  annexed — 
although  it  appeared  that  the  relations  had  been  heterodox  on 
the  subject,  and  had  said  they  wouldn't  particularly  mind !  I 
suggested  that  they  were  probably  stock-raising  in  the  North- 
west out  there,  and  found  our  tariff  inconvenient;  and  the 
Stacys  said  Yes,  they  were.  I  continued  that  the  union  they 
would  like  to  see  was  doubtless  commercial,  and  not  political ; 


282 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


and  the  Stacys,  when  they  thought  of  this,  became  more  cheerful. 
Further  on,  the  Squire  handed  me  a  silver  candlestick  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  with  the  courtliness  of  three  generations  past;  and 
as  I  went  to  bed  by  candle-light  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 


MISS    DOROTHY    EXPLAINED    THAT    IT    WAS    A    CURTSEY.' 


wondered  whether  I  would  not  suddenly  arrive,  like  this,  at  the 
end  of  a  chapter,  and  find  that  I  had  just  been  reading  one  of 
Rhoda  Broughton's  novels.  But  in  the  morning  it  came  in  at 
the  window  with  the  scent  of  the  lilacs,  and  I  undoubtedly  heard 
it  again — '  Cuckoo !'...'  Ot^ckoo ! ' 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  283 


XXYII 

*  TTAVEN'T  you  some  letters,  child,  to  your  Ambassador,  or 
_L_L     whatever  he  is,  here  in  London  ?  '  asked  Lady  Torquilin 
one  morning. 

'  Why,  yes,'  I  said,  *  I  have.  I'd  forgotten  about  them. 
He  is  quite  an  old  friend  of  poppa's — in  a  political  way  ;  but 
poppa  advised  me  not  to  bother  him  so  long  as  I  wasn't  in  any 
difficulty — he  must  have  such  lots  of  Americans  coming  over 
here  for  the  summer  and  fussing  round  every  year,  you  know. 
And  I  haven't  been.' 

*  Well,  you  must  now,'  declared  Lady  Torquilin,  *  for  I  want 
you  to  go  to  Court  with  me  a  fortnight  from  to-day.  It's  five 
years  since  I've  gone,  and  quite  time  I  should  put  in  an  appear- 
ance again.     Besides,  the  Maffertons  wish  it.' 

*  The  Maffertons  wish  it  ? '  I  said.  '  Dear  me  !  I  consider 
that  extremely  kind.  I  suppose  they  think  I  would  enjoy  it 
very  much.     And  I  dare  say  I  should.* 

*  Lady  Mafferton  and  I  talked  it  over  yesterday,'  liady  Tor- 
quilin continued,  '  and  we  agreed  that  although  either  she  or  I 
might  present  you,  it  would  be  more  properly  done,  on  account 
of  your  being  an  American,  by  your  American  man's  wife. 
Indeed,  I  dare  say  it's  obligatory.     So  we  must  see  about  it.' 

And  Lady  Torquilin  and  Lady  Mafferton,  with  very  little 
assistance  from  me,  saw  about  it. 

In  the  moment  that  succeeded  the  slight  shock  of  the  novel 


284  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

idea,  I  found  a  certain  delirium  in  contemplating  it  that  I  could 
not  explain  by  any  of  the  theories  I  had  been  brought  up  upon. 
It  took  entire  possession  of  me — I  could  not  reason  it  away. 
Even  in  reading  my  home  letters,  which  usually  abstracted  mo 
altogether  for  the  time,  I  saw  it  fluttering  round  the  corners  of 
tl  6  pages.  '  What  would  they  say,'  I  thought,  *  if  they  knew 
I  was  going  to  be  presented  to  the  Queen — their  daughter, 
Mamie  Wick,  of  Illinois  ? '  Would  they  consider  that  I  had  com- 
promised the  strict  Republican  principles  of  the  family,  and 
reprobate  the  proceeding !  The  idea  gave  me  a  momentary  con- 
science-chill, which  soon  passed  off,  however,  under  the  agreeable 
recollection  of  poppa's  having  once  said  that  he  considered  Her 
Majesty  a  very  fine  woman,  and  for  his  part  he  would  be  proud 
to  be  introduced  to  her.  After  all,  being  presented  was  only  a 
way  of  being  introduced  to  her — the  way  they  do  it  in  England. 
I  felt  pretty  sure  the  family  principles  could  stand  that  much. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  know,  very  few  Americans  have  any 
personal  objection  to  royalty.  And  I  dismissed  the  idea, 
abandoning  myself  to  the  joy  of  preparation,  which  Lady  Tur- 
quilin  decreed  should  begin  the  very  next  day.  I  thought  this, 
though  pleasurable,  rather  unnecessary  at  first.  '  Dear  Lady 
Torquilin,'  said  I,  in  the  discussion  of  our  Court  dresses,  '  can't 
we  see  about  them  next  week  ? — we  planned  so  many  other 
things  for  this  one  ! ' 

'  Child,  child,'  returned  Lady  Torquilin,  impressively,  *  in  the 
coming  fortnight  we  have  barely  time !  You  must  know  that 
we  don't  do  things  by  steam  and  electricity  in  this  country. 
You  can't  go  to  Court  by  pressing  a  button.  We  haven't  a 
moment  to  lose.  And  as  to  other  arrangements,  we  must  just 
give  everything  up,  so  as  to  have  our  minds  free  and  comfortable 
till  we  get  the  whole  business  over.'      Afterwards,  about    the 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


28c 


"  '  WHOEVER    HEARD    OF   ATTENDING    ONE    OF    HER    MAJESTY'S    DRAWING-ROOMS 
IN   A   FROCK    MADE    IN    NEW    YORK  1  "  ' 


286  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

seventh  time  I  had  my  Court  dress  tried  on,  I  became  con- 
vinced that  Lady  Torquilin  was  right.  You  do  nothing  by 
steam  and  electricity  in  this  country.  I  found  that  it  took  ten 
days  to  get  a  pair  of  satin  slippers  made.  Though,  '  of  course, 
if  you  were  not  quite  so  particular,  mi?ss,  about  that  toe,  or  if 
you  'ad  come  about  them  sooner,  we  could  'ave  obliged  you  in 
less  time,'  tbe  shoemaker  said.  In  less  time !  A  Chicago  firm 
would  have  made  the  slippers,  gone  into  liquidation,  had  a 
clearing  sale,  and  reopened  business  at  the  old  stand  in  less  time ! 
I  like  to  linger  over  that  fortnight's  excitement — its  details 
were  so  novel  and  so  fascinating.  First,  the  vague  and  the 
general,  the  creation  of  two  gowns  for  an  occasion  extraordinary, 
mentioned  by  head  ladies,  in  establishments  where  a  portrait  of 
Her  Majesty  hung  suggestively  on  the  wall,  almost  with  bated 
breath.  Lady  Torquilin  for  once  counselled  a  mild  degree  of 
extravagance,  and  laughed  at  my  ideas — though  she  usually 
respected  them  about  clothes — when  I  laid  out  for  her  inspection 
three  perfectly  fresh  New  York  dresses,  quite  ideal  in  their  way, 
and  asked  her  if  any  of  them  would  '  do.'  '  You  have  a  great 
deal  to  learn,  child  ! '  she  said.  '  No,  they  won't,  indeed !  Who 
ever  heard  of  attending  one  of  Her  Majesty's  Drawing-Rooms 
in  a  frock  made  in  New  York  !  I'm  not  saying  you  haven't  very 
nice  taste  over  there,  my  dear,  for  that  you  have  ;  but  it  stands 
to  reason  that  your  dressmakers,  not  having  Court  instructions, 
can't  be  expected  to  know  anything  about  Court  trains,  doesnH 
it  ?  '  From  which  there  was  no  appeal,  so  that  the  next  day  or 
two  went  in  deep  conferences  with  the  head  ladies  aforesaid  and 
absorbed  contemplation  of  resultant  patterns — which  Lady 
Torquilin  never  liked  to  hear  me  call  '  samples.'  I  was  spared 
the  trial  of  deciding  upon  a  colour  combination  ;  being  a  young 
lady  I  was  to  go  in  white,  Lady  Torquilin  gave  me  to  under- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  287 

stand,  by  edict  of  the  Court.  But  should  I  have  the  train  or 
the  petticoat  of  the  brocade,  or  would  I  prefer  a  bengaline  train 
with  a  bodice  and  petticoat  of  cfr^i^p,  due  chine  ?  Should  the  train 
come  from  the  shoulder  or  be  '  fulled '  in  at  the  waist ;  and 
what  did  I  really  think  myself  about  ostrich  tips  grouped  down  one 
side,  or  bunches  of  field  flowers  dispersed  upon  the  petticoat,  or 
just  a  suggestion  of  silver  embroidery  gleaming  all  through ;  or 
perhaps  mademoiselle  might  fancy  an  Empress  gown,  which 
would  be  thoroughly  good  style— they  had  made  three  for  the 
last  Drawing-Room  ?  I  had  never  been  so  wrouglit  up  about 
any  dress  before.  Privately,  I  compared  it  to  Lady  Torquilin 
with  the  fuss  that  is  made  about  a  wedding-dress.  '  My  dear,' 
she  exclaimed,  candidly,  '  a  wedding-dress  is  nothing  to  it ;  as 
I  dare  say,'  she  added,  roguishly  pinching  my  cheek  in  a  way 
she  had,  '  it  won't  be  long  before  you  find  out ! '  But  I  don't 
think  Lady  Torquilin  really  knew  at  the  time  anything  about 
this. 

It  was  not  too  much  to  say  that  those  two  Court  dresses — 
Lady  Torquilin  was  going  in  a  scheme  of  pansy-coloured  velvet 
and  heliotrope — haunted  our  waking  and  sleeping  hours  for 
quite  five  days.  Peter  Corke,  dropping  in  almost  at  the 
beginning,  declared  it  a  disgraceful  waste  of  time,  with  the 
whole  of  Chelsea  a  dead-letter  to  me,  and  came  again  almost 
every  afternoon  that  week  to  counsel  and  collaborate  for  an 
hour  and  a  half.  I  may  say  that  Miss  Corke  took  the  matter 
in  hand  vigorously.  It  was  probably  a  detail  in  the  improve 
ment  of  my  mind  and  my  manners  which  she  could  not  con- 
scientiously overlook.  '  Since  you  have  the  audacity  to  wish 
to  kiss  the  hand  of  a  sovereign  who  is  none  of  yours,'  said 
she,  with  her  usual  twinkle,  '  you'll  kindly  see  that  you  do  it 
properly,  miss ! '     So  she  gave  us  explicit  instructions  as  to 


288  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

the  right  florist,  and  glover,  and  laceman,  and  hairdresser,  to 
which  even  Lady  Torquilin  listened  with  respect ;  '  and  do  not 
he  'persuaded^'  said  she,  with  mock-severe  emphasis,  'to  go  to 
anybody  else.  These  people  are  dear,  but  you  are  perfectly 
safe  with  them,  and  that's  important,  don't  you  think  ? '  Peter 
even  brought  over  a  headdress  she  wore  herself  the  season 
before,  to  get  the  American  effect,  she  said,  and  offered  to  lend 
it  to  me.  It  consisted  of  three  white  ostrich  feathers  aud  a 
breadth  of  Brussels  net  about  a  yard  and  a  half  long  hanging 
down  behind,  and  I  found  it  rather  trying  as  an  adornment. 
So  I  told  her  I  was  very  much  obliged,  but  I  didn't  consider  it 
becoming,  and  I  thought  I  would  go  with  nothing  on  my 
head.  At  which  she  screamed  her  delightful  little  scream, 
and  said  indeed  I  wouldn't,  if  the  Lord  Chamberlain  had  any- 
thing to  say  in  the  matter.  And  when  I  found  out  just  how 
much  the  Lord  Chamberlain  had  to  say  in  the  matter — how  he 
arranged  the  exact  length  of  my  train  and  cut  of  my  bodice, 
and  what  I  wore  in  my  hair — the  whole  undertaking,  while  it 
grew  in  consequence,  grew  also  in  cliarm.  It  was  interesting 
in  quite  a  novel  way  to  come  within  the  operation  of  these 
arbitrary  requirements  connected  with  the  person  of  royalty. 
I  liked  getting  ready  to  go  to  Court  infinitely  better  than  if  I 
had  been  able  to  do  it  quite  my  own  way,  and  the  Lord 
Chamberlain  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  enjoyed  his 
interference.  This  was  hard  to  reconcile  with  democratic  prin- 
ciples, too.  I  intend  to  read  up  authorities  in  Anglo-American 
fiction  who  may  have  dealt  with  the  situation  when  I  get  home, 
to  see  if  they  shed  any  light  upon  it,  just  for  my  own  satisfac- 
tion. But  I  think  it  is  a  good  thing  that  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain's authority  stops  where  it  does.  It  would  be  simple 
tyranny  if  he  were  allowed  to  prescribe  colours  for  middle-aged 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


289 


ladies,  for  instance,  and  had  commanded  Lady  Torquilin  to 
appear  in  yellow,  which  is  almost  the  only  colour  she  can't 
wear.     As  it  was,  he  was  very  nice  indeed  about  it,  allowing 


I   FOUND    THE    CURTSEY    DIFFICULT    AT    FIBST. 


her  to  come  in  a  V-shaped  bodice  on  account  of  her  predisposi- 
tion to  bronchitis ;  but  she  had  to  write  and  ask  him  very 
politely  indeed.     He  told  her  by  return  post — of  course  it  was 


290  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

not  a  private  letter,  but  a  sort  of  circular — ^just  which  dress- 
makers had  the  V-shaped  patterns  the  Queen  liked  best  in  such 
cases  as  hers,  and  Lady  Torquilin  at  once  obtained  them. 
After  that  she  said  she  had  no  further  anxiety — there  was 
nothing  like  going  straight  to  the  proper  sources  for  informa- 
tion to  have  a  comfortable  mind.  With  that  letter,  if  anything 
went  wrong,  the  Lord  Chamberlain  could  clearly  be  made  re- 
sponsible— and  what  did  one  want  more  than  that  ? 

One  thing  that  surprised  me  during  that  fortnight  of  pre- 
paration was  the  remarkable  degree  of  interest  shown  in  our 
undertaking  by  all  our  friends.  I  should  have  thought  it  an 
old  story  in  London,  but  it  seemed  just  as  absorbing  a  topic  to 
the  ladies  who  came  to  see  Lady  Torquilin  on  her  '  day,*  and 
who  had  lived  all  their  lives  in  England,  as  it  was  to  me.  They 
were  politely  curious  upon  every  detail ;  they  took  another  cup 
of  tea,  and  said  it  was  really  an  ordeal ;  they  seemed  to  take  a 
sympathetic  pleasure  in  being,  as  it  were,  in  the  swirl  of  the 
tide  that  was  carrying  us  forward  to  the  Royal  presence.  If 
the  ladies  had  been  presented  themselves  they  gave  us  graphic 
and  varying  accounts  of  the  occasion,  to  which  we  listened  with 
charmed  interest ;  if  not,  they  brought  forth  stories,  if  anything 
more  thrilling,  of  what  had  happened  to  other  people  they  knew 
or  had  heard  of — the  lady  whose  diamond  necklace  broke  as  she 
bent ;  the  lady  who  forgot  to  take  the  silver  paper  out  of  her 
train  at  home,  and  left  it  in  the  arms  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the 
Court  as  she  sailed  forward;  the  lady  who  was  attacked  by 
violent  hysteria  just  as  she  passed  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh. 
Miss  Corke's  advice — though  we  relied  upon  nobody  else — was 
supplemented  fifty  times ;  and  one  lady  left  us  at  half-past  six 
in  the  afternoon,  almost  in  tears,  because  she  had  failed  to  per- 
suade me  to  take  a  few  lessons,  «.t  a  guinea  a  lesson,  from  a 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  ,291 

French  lady  who  made  a  specialty  of  debutante  presentations. 
I  think  I  should  have  taken  them,  the  occasion  found  me  with 
so  little  self-reliance,  if  it  had  not  been  for  Lady  Torquilin. 
But  Lady  Torquilin  said  No,  certainly  not,  it  was  a  silly  waste 
of  money,  and  she  could  show  me  everything  that  was  necessary 
for  all  practical  purposes  as  well  as  Madame  Anybody.  So 
several  mornings  we  had  little  rehearsals,  Lady  Torquilin  and 
I,  after  breakfast,  in  my  room,  by  which  I  profited  much.  We 
did  it  very  simply,  with  a  towel  and  whatever  flowers  were  left 
over  from  dinner  the  night  before.  I  would  pin  the  towel  to 
my  dress  behind  and  hold  the  flowers,  and  advance  from  the 
other  end  of  the  room  to  Lady  Torquilin,  who  represented 
Her  Majesty,  and  gave  me  her  hand  to  kiss.  I  found  the 
curtsey  difficult  at  first,  especially  the  getting  up  part  of  it, 
and  Lady  Torquilin  was  obliged  to  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
practice.  *  Remember  one  thing  about  the  Queen's  hand  abso- 
lutely, child,'  said  she.  '  You're  not,  under  any  circumstances 
whatever,  to  help  yourself  up  by  it ! '  And  then  I  would  be  the 
Queen,  and  Lady  Torquilin,  just  to  get  into  the  way  of  it 
again,  would  pin  on  the  towel  and  carry  the  roses,  and  curtsey 
to  me. 


292  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 


XXVIII 

I  KNOW  I  sLall  enjoy  writing  this  chapter,  I  enjoyed  its 
prospective  contents  so  much.  To  be  perfectly  candid,  I 
liked  going  to  Court  better  than  any  other  thing  I  did  in 
England,  not  excepting  Madame  Tussaud's.  or  the  Beefeaters  at 
the  Tower,  or  even  '  Our  Flat '  at  the  Strand.  It  did  a  great 
deal  to  reconcile  me,  practically,  with  monarchical  institutions, 
although,  chiefly  on  poppa's  account,  I  should  like  it  to  be  under- 
stood that  my  democratic  theories  are  still  quite  unshaken  in 
every  respect. 

It  seems  to  me,  looking  back  upon  it,  that  we  began  to  go 
very  early  in  the  morning.  I  remember  a  vision  of  long  white 
boxes  piled  up  at  the  end  of  the  room  through  the  grey  of  dawn, 
and  a  very  short  nap  afterwards,  before  the  maid  came  knocking 
with  Lady  Torquilin's  inquiries  as  to  how  I  had  slept,  and  did  I 
remember  that  the  hairdreseer  was  coming  at  nine  sharp  ?  Tt 
was  a  gentle  knock,  but  it  seemed  to  bristle  with  portent  as  I 
heard  it,  and  brought  with  it  the  swift  realisation  that  this  was 
Friday  at  last — the  Friday  on  which  I  should  see  Queen  Victoria. 
And  yet,  of  course,  to  be  quite  candid,  that  was  only  half  the 
excitement  the  knock  brought ;  the  other  half  was  that  Queen 
Victoria  should  see  me,  for  an  instant  and  as  an  individual. 
There  was  a  very  gratifying  flutter  in  that. 

The  hairdresser  was  prompt.  She  came  just  as  Charlotte 
was  going  out  with  the  tray,  Lady  Torquilin  having   decreed 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  293 

that  we  should  take  our  morning  meal  in  retirement.     She  was 
a  kind,  pleasant,  loquacious  hairdresser. 

*  I'm  glad  to  see  you've  been  able  to  take  a  good  breakfast, 
miss,'  she  said,  as  she  puffed  and  curled  me.  '  That's  'alf  the 
battle  ! '  She  was  sorry  that  she  had  to  come  to  us  so  early,  '  but 
not  until  two  o'clock,  miss,  do  I  expect  to  be  for  one  moment  off 
my  feet,  what  with  Ontry  ladys  who  don't  wish  to  be  done 
till  they're  just  getting  into  their  carriages — though  for  that  I 
don't  blame  them,  miss,  and  nobody  could.  I'm  afraid  you'll 
find  these  lappits  very  wearing  on  the  nerves  before  the  day 
is  out.  But  I'll  just  pin  them  up  so,  miss — and  of  course 
you  must  do  as  best  pleases  you,  but  my  adoice  would  be, 
don't  let  them  down  for  anyhodj,  miss,  till  you  start.'  But 
I  was  not  sorry  the  hairdresser  came  so  early.  It  would 
have  been  much  more  wearing  on  the  nerves  to  have  waited 
for  her. 

Perhaps  you  will  find  it  difficult  to  understand  the  interest 
with  which  I  watched  my  own  development  into  a  lady  dressed 
for  Court.  Even  the  most  familiar  details  of  costume  seemed  to 
acquire  a  new  meaning  and  importance,  while  those  of  special 
relevance  had  the  charm  that  might  arise  from  the  mingling  of 
a  very  august  occasion  with  a  fancy-dress  ball.  When  I  was 
quite  ready,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  a  different  person,  very 
pretty,  very  tall,  with  a  tendency  to  look  backward  over  my 
shoulder,  wearing,  as  well  as  a  beautiful  sweeping  gown,  a  lofty 
and  complete  set  of  monarchical  prejudices,  which  I  thought  be- 
coming in  masquerade.  I  was  too  much  fascinated  with  my  out- 
ward self.  I  could  have  wished,  for  an  instant,  that  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  was  hanging  about  somewhere  framed. 

Then  the  advent  of  the  big  square  wooden  box  from  the 
florist's,  and  the  gracious  wonder  of  white  roses  and  grasses 


294  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

inside,  with  little  buds  dropping  and  caught  in  its  trailing 
ribbons — there  is  a  great  deal  of  the  essence  of  a  Royal  function 
in  a  Drawing-Koom  bouquet.  And  then  Lady  Torquilin,  with 
a  new  graciousness  and  dignity,  quite  a  long  way  off  it'  1  had  not 
been  conscious  of  sharing  her  state  for  the  time.  Lady  Torquilin  s 
appearance  gave  me  more-  ideas  about  my  own  than  the  pier- 
glass  did.  '  Dear  me  ! '  I  thought,  with  a  certain  rapture,  '  do 
I  really  look  anything  like  fhrd  ?  ' 

We  went  down  in  the  lift  one  at  a  time,  with  Charlotte  as 
train-bearer,  and  the  other  maids  furtively  admiring  from  the  end 
of  the  hall.  Almost  everybody  in  Cadogan  Mansions  seemed 
to  be  going  out  at  about  the  same  time,  and  a  small  crowd  had 
gathered  on  each  side  of  the  strip  of  carpet,  that  led  from  the 
door  to  the  carriage.  It  was  Lady  Mafferton's  carriage,  lent  for 
the  occasion,  and  the  footman  and  coachman  were  as  impressive 
as  powder  and  buff  and  brass  buttons  would  make  them.  In 
addition,  they  wore  remarkable  floral  designs  about  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  cabbage-leaf  upon  their  breasts  immediately  under 
their  chins.  That  was  another  thing  that  could  not  have  been 
done  with  dignity  in  America. 

The  weather  looked  threatening  as  we  drove  off,  precisely 
at  twelve  o'clock,  and  presently  it  began  to  rain  with  great 
industry  and  determination.  The  drops  came  streaming  down 
outside  the  carriage  windows  ;  fewer  people  as  we  passed  leaned 
out  of  hansoms  to  look  at  us.  Inside  the  Mafierton  carriage  we 
were  absurdly  secure  from  the  weather  ;  we  surveyed  our  trains, 
piled  up  on  the  opposite  seat,  with  complacency ;  we  took  no 
thought  even  for  the  curl  of  our  feathers.  We  counted,  as  we 
drove  past  them  to  take  our  place,  and  there  were  forty  carriages 
in  line  ahead  of  us.  Then  we  stopped  behind  the  last,  in  the 
middle  of  a  wide  road,  heavily  bordered  under  the  trees  with 


WE    WENT    DOWN    IN    THE    LIFT,    ONE    AT    A    TIME,    WITH    CIIARLOTTF!    AH    TBAIN-BEABJiR.' 

20 


2q6  an  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

damp  people  and  dripping  umbrellas — there  for  the  spectacle. 
All  kinds  of  people  and  all  kinds  of  umbrellas,  I  noticed  with 
interest — ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  little  seamstresses,  and 
loafers  and  ragamuffins,  and  apple-women,  and  a  large  propor- 
tion of  your  respectable  lower  middle-class.  We  sat  in  state 
amongst  them  in  the  rain,  being  observed,  and  liking  it.  I  heard 
my  roses  approved,  and  the  nape  of  my  neck,  and  Lady  Tor- 
quilin's  diamonds.  I  also  heard  it  made  very  unpleasant  for 
an  elderly  young  lady  in  the  carriage  in  front  of  ours,  whose 
appearance  was  not  approved  by  a  pair  of  candid  newsboys. 
The  policemen  kept  the  people  off,  however ;  they  could  only 
approach  outside  a  certain  limit,  and  there  they  stood,  or  walked 
up  and  down,  huddled  together  in  the  rain,  and  complaining  of 
the  clouded  carriage  windows.  I  think  there  came  to  me  then, 
sitting  in  the  carriage  in  the  warmth  and  pride  and  fragrance 
and  luxuriance  of  it  all,  one  supreme  moment  of  experience, 
when  I  bent  my  head  over  my  roses  and  looked  out  into  the 
rain — one  throb  of  exulting  pleasure  that  seemed  to  hold  the 
whole  meaning  of  the  thing  I  was  doing,  and  to  make  its  covet- 
able  nature  plain.  I  find  my  thoughts  centre,  looking  back, 
upon  that  one  moment. 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  we  moved  again.  In  the  hours 
that  came  between  we  had  nothing  to  do  but  smell  our  flowers, 
discuss  the  people  who  drove  past  to  take  places  farther  down 
the  line,  congratulate  ourselves  upon  being  forty-first,  and  eat 
tiny  sandwiches  done  up  in  tissue  paper,  with  serious  regard  for 
the  crumbs ;  yet  the  time  did  not  seem  at  all  long.  Mr.  Oddie 
Pratte,  who  was  to  escort  us  through  the  palace  and  home  again, 
made  an  incident,  dashing  up  in  a  hansom  on  his  way  to  the 
club  to  dress,  but  that  was  all.  And  once  Lady  Torquilin  had 
the  footman  down  to  tell  him  and  his  brother- functionary  under 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL    IN  LONDON  297 

the  big  umbrella  to  put  on  their  rubber  coats.  'Thank  you, 
my  lady  ! '  said  the  footman,  and  went  back  to  the  box ;  but 
neither  of  them  took  advantage  of  the  permission.  They  were 
going  to  Court  too,  and  knew  what  was  seemly.  And  the 
steamy  crowd  stayed  on  till  the  last. 


2q8 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


XXIX 


RESENTLY,  when  we   were 
not  in  the  least  expecting 
it,  there  came  a  little  sudden 
jolt   that   made  us  look  at 
each     other     precipitatel}-. 
Lady  Torquilin  was  quite  as 
nervous  as  I  at  this  point. 
'  What      has     become      of 
Oddie  ? '  she  exclaimed,  and 
descried  a  red  coat  in  a  cab 
rolling  up  beside  us  with  in- 
tense relief.     As  we  passed 
through   the    Palace   gates 
the  cab  dit^appeared,  and  chaos 
came    again.      '  Naughty    boy  ! ' 
said  Lady  Torquilin,  in  bitterness  of 
spirit.     '  Why,  in  the  name  of  for- 
tune, could u't  he  have  come  with  us 


the 


carriage 


?     Men    have    no 


nerves,  my  dear,  none  whatever ;  and 

they    can't    understand    our   having 

them !  '     But    at    that    moment    we 

alighted,  in  a  maze  of  directions,  upon  the  wide,  red-cai-peted 

steps,  and  whisked  as  rapidly  as  possible  through  great  corridors 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


299 


'  AND    CHAOS    CAME    AGAIN. 


300  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

with  knots  of  gentlemen  in  uniform  in  them  to  the  cloak-room. 
'  Hurry,  child  ! '  whispered  Lady  Torquilin,  handing  our  wraps 
to  the  white-capped  maid.  '  Don't  let  these  people  get  ahead  of 
us,  and  keep  close  to  me ! ' — and  1  observed  the  same  spasmodic 
haste  in  everybody  else.  With  our  trains  over  our  arms  we 
fled  after  the  others,  as  rapidly  as  decorum  would  permit,  through 
spacious  halls  and  rooms  that  lapse  into  a  red  confusion  in  my 
recollection,  leaving  one  of  my  presentation  cards  somewhere  on 
the  way,  and  reaching  the  limit  of  permitted  progress  at  last 
with  a  strong  sense  of  security  and  comfort.  We  found  it  in  a 
large  pillared  room  full  of  regalarly-curving  lines  of  chairs, 
occupied  by  the  ladies  of  the  forty  carriages  that  were  before  us. 
Every  head  wore  its  three  white  feathers  and  its  tulle  extension, 
and  the  aggregation  of  plumes  and  lappets  and  gentle  movements 
made  one  in  the  rear  think  of  a  flock  of  tame  pigeons  nodding 
and  pecking — it  was  very  '  quaint,'  as  Lady  Torquilin  said  when 
I  pointed  it  out.  The  dresses  of  these  ladies  immediately  be- 
came a  source  of  the  liveliest  interest  to  us,  as  ours  were  appa- 
rently to  those  who  sat  near  us.  In  fact,  I  had  never  seen  such 
undisguised  curiosity  of  a  polite  kind  before.  But  then  I  do 
not  know  that  I  had  ever  been  in  the  same  room  with  so  many 
jewels,  and  brocades,  and  rare  orchids,  and  drooping  feathers,  and 
patrician  features  before,  so  perhaps  this  is  not  surprising.  A 
few  gentlemen  were  standing  about  the  room,  holding  fans  and 
bouquets,  leaning  over  the  backs  of  the  ladies'  chairs,  and  looking 
rather  distraught,  in  very  becoming  costumes  of  black  velvet 
and  silk  stockings  and  shoe-buckles,  and  officers  in  uniform  were 
scattered  through  the  room,  looking  as  if  they  felt  rather  more 
important  than  the  men  in  black  ;  as  I  dare  say  they  did,  repre- 
senting that  most  glorious  and  impressive  British  institution,  the 
Army,  while  the  others  were  only  private  gentlemen,  their  own 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  301 

property,  and  not  connected  with  her  Majesty  in  any  personal 
way  whatever. 

'  Here  you  are/  said  somebody  close  behind  us.  '  How  d'ye 
do,  Auntie?  How  d'ye  do.  Miss  Wick?  'Pon  my  word,  I'm 
awfully  sorry  I  missed  you  before;  but  you're  all  right,  aren't  you  ? 
The  brute  of  a  policeman  at  the  gates  wouldn't  pass  a  hansom.' 

It  was  Mr.  Oddie  Pratte,  of  course,  looking  particularly 
handsome  in  his  red-and-plaid  uniform,  holding  his  helmet  in 
front  of  him  in  the  way  that  people  acquire  in  the  Army,  and 
pleased,  as  usual,  with  the  world  at  large. 

'  Then  may  I  ask  how  you  came  here,  sir  ? '  said  Lady 
Torquilin,  making  a  pretence  of  severity. 

'  Private  entree  ! '  responded  Mr.  Pratte,  with  an  assumption 
of  grandeur.  '  Fellow  drove  me  up  as  a  matter  of  course — no 
apologies !  They  suspected  I  was  somebody,  I  guess,  coming 
that  way,  and  I  gave  the  man  his  exact  fare,  to  deepen  the  im- 
pression. Walked  in.  Nobody  said  anything !  It's  what  you 
call  a  game  o'  bluff.  Auntie  dear  ! ' 

'  A  piece  of  downright  impertinence  ! '  said  Lady  Torquilin? 
pleasantly.  *It  was  your  red  coat,  boy.  Now,  what  do  you 
think  of  our  gowns  ? ' 

Mr.  Pratte  told  us  what  he  thought  of  them  with  great 
amiability  and  candour.  I  had  seen  quite  enough  of  him  since 
the  day  at  Aldershot  to  permit  and  enjoy  his  opinion,  which  even 
its  frequent  use  of  '  chic  '  and  '  rico '  did  not  make  in  any  way 
irreverent.  This  young  gentleman  was  a  connoisseur  in  gowns ; 
he  understood  them  very  well,  and  we  were  both  pleased  that 
he  liked  ours.  As  we  criticised  and  chaffed  and  chatted  a  door 
opened  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  and  all  the  ladies  rose 
precipitately  and  swept  forward. 

It  was  like    a   great  shimmering  wave,  radiant  in  colour, 


302  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

breaking  in  a  hundred  places  into  the  foam  of  those  dimpling 
feathers  and  streaming  lappets,  and  it  rushed  with  unanimity  to 
the  open  door,  stopping  there,  chafing,  on  this  side  of  a  silk  rope 
and  a  Gentleman  of  the  Court.  We  hurried  on  with  the  wave 
— Lady  Torquilin  and  Mr.  Oddie  Pratte  and  I — and  presently 
we  were  inextricably  massed  about  half-way  from  its  despairing 
outer  edge,  in  an  encounter  of  elbows  which  was  only  a  little  less 
than  furious.  Everybody  gathered  her  train  over  her  left  arm — it 
made  one  think  of  the  ladies  of  Nepaul,  who  wear  theirs  in  front, 
it  is  said — and  clung  with  one  hand  to  her  prodigious  bouquet, 
protecting  her  pendent  head-dress  with  the  other.  '  For  pity's 
sake,  child,  take  care  of  your  lappets,'  exclaimed  Lady  Torquilin. 
'  Look  at  that ! '  I  looked  at  '  that ' ;  it  was  a  ragged  fragment 
of  tulle  about  a  quarter  of  a  yard  long,  dependent  from  the 
graceful  head  of  a  young  lady  immediately  in  front  of  us.  She 
did  not  know  of  her  misfortune,  poor  thing,  but  she  had  a 
vague  and  undetermined  sense  of  woe,  and  she  turned  to  us 
with  speaking  eyes.  '  I've  lost  mamma,'  she  said,  unhappily. 
'  Where  is  mamma  ?  I  must  go  to  mamma.'  And  she  was  not 
such  a  very  young  lady  either.  But  Lady  Torquilin,  in  her  kind- 
ness of  heart,  said,  '  So  you  shall,  my  dear,  so  you  shall ! '  and 
Mr.  Pratte  took  his  aunt's  bouquet  and  mine,  and  held  them, 
one  in  each  hand,  above  the  heads  of  the  mob  of  fine-ladyhood, 
rather  enjoying  the  situation,  I  think,  so  that  we  could  crowd 
together  and  allow  the  young  lady  who  wanted  her  mamma  to 
go  and  find  her.  Mr.  Oddie  Pratte  took  excellent  care  of  the 
bouquets,  holding  them  aloft  in  that  manner,  and  looked  so 
gallantly  handsome  doing  it  that  other  gentlemen  immediately 
followed  his  example,  and  turned  themselves  into  flowery  can- 
delabra, with  gi-eat  effect  upon  the  brilliancy  of  the  scene. 

A   sudden   movement  among  the  ladies  nearest  the  silken 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL..  IN  lONDON  303 

barrier — a  sudden  concentration  of  energy  that  came  with  the 
knowledge  that  there  was  progress  to  be  made,  progress  to 
Royalty!  A  quick,  heaving  rush  through  and  beyond  into 
another  apartment  full  of  emptiness  and  marble  pillars,  and  we 
were  once  more  at  a  standstill,  having  conquered  a  few  places — 
brought  to  a  masterly  inactivity  by  another  silken  cord  and 
another  Gentleman  of  the  Court,  polite  but  firm.  In  the  room 
beyond  we  could  see  certain  figures  moving  about  at  their  ease, 
with  no  crush  and  no  struggle — the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
Private  Entree.  With  what  lofty  superiority  we  invested  them ! 
They  seemed,  for  the  time,  to  belong  to  some  other  planet,  where 
Royal  beings  grew  and  smiled  at  every  street-corner,  and  to  be,  on 
the  other  side  of  that  silken  barrier,  an  immeasurable  distance  off". 
It  was  a  distinct  shock  to  hear  an  elderly  lady  beside  us,  done  up 
mainly  in  amethysts,  recognise  a  cousin  among  them.  It  seemed 
to  be  self-evident  that  she  had  no  right  to  have  a  cousin  there. 

'  I'll  see  you  through  the  barrier,'  said  Mr.  Oddie  Pratte, 
'  and  then  I'll  have  to  leave  you.  I'll  bolt  round  the  other  way, 
and  be  waiting  for  you  at  the  off-door,  Auntie.  I'd  come  through, 
only  Her  Maj.  does  hate  it  so.  Not  at  all  nice  of  her,  I  call  it, 
but  she  can't  bear  the  most  charming  of  us  about  on  these  occa- 
sions. We're  not  good  enough.'  A  large-boned  lady  in  fronts 
red  velvet  and  cream — with  a  diminutive  major  in  attendance, 
turned  to  him  at  this,  and  said  with  unction,  '  I  am  sure,  Edwin, 
that  is  not  the  case.  I  have  it  on  excellent  authority  that  the 
Queen  is  jpleasedj  when  gentlemen  come  through.  Remember, 
Edwin,  I  will  not  face  it  alone.' 

'  I  think  you  will  do  very  well,  my  dear ! '  Edwin  responded. 
'  Brace  up  !  'Pon  my  word,  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  go.  I'll 
join  you  at ' 

*  If  you  desert  me,  Edwin,  I  shall  die  !  '  said  the  bony  lady, 


304  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

in  a  strong  undertone ;  and  at  that  moment  the  crowd  broke 
again.  Oddie  slipped  away,  and  we  went  on  exultantly  two 
places,  for  the  major  had  basely  and  swiftly  followed  Mr.  Pratte, 
and  his  timid  spouse,  in  a  last  clutching  expostulation,  had  fallen 
hopelessly  to  the  rear. 

About  twenty  of  us,  this  time,  were  let  in  at  once.  The  last 
of  the  preceding  twenty  were  slowly  and  singly  pacing  after  one 
another's  trains  round  two  sides  of  this  third  big  room  towards  a 
door  at  the  farther  corner.  There  was  a  most  impressive  silence. 
As  we  got  into  file  I  felt  that  the  supreme  moment  was  at  hand, 
and  it  was  not  a  comfortable  feeling.  Lady  Torquilin,  in  front 
of  me,  put  a  question  to  a  gentleman  in  a  uniform  she  ought  to 
have  been  afraid  of — only  that  nothing  ever  terrified  Lady  Tor- 
quilin, which  made  it  less  comfortable  still.  *  Oh,  Lord  Maffer- 
ton,'  said  she — I  hadn't  recognised  him  in  my  nervousness  and 
his  gold  lace — ^  How  many  curtseys  are  there  to  make  ? ' 

'  Nine,  dear  lady,'  replied  this  peer,  with  evident  enjoyment. 
*  It's  the  most  brilliant  Drawing-Koom  of  the  season.  Every 
Royalty  who  could  possibly  attend  is  here.  Nine,  at  the 
least ! ' 

Lady  Torquilin's  reply  utterly  terrified  me.  It  was  confi- 
dential, and  delivered  in  an  undertone,  but  it  was  full  of  severe 
meaning.  '  I'm  full  of  rheumatism,'  said  she,  '  and  I  shan't 
do  it.' 

The  question  as  to  what  Lady  Torquilin  would  do,  if  not 
what  was  required  of  her,  rose  vividly  before  me,  and  kept  me 
company  at  every  step  of  that  interminable  round.  *  Am  I  all 
right  ? '  she  whispered  over  her  shoulder  from  the  other  end  of 
that  trailing  length  of  pansy-coloured  velvet.  '  Perfectly/  I 
said.  But  there  was  nobody  to  tell  m&  that  I  was  all  right — I 
might  have  been  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches.     Somebody's 


IT    WAS    MY   TUBN 


3o6  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 

roses  had  dropped ;  I  was  walking  on  pink  petals.  What  a 
pity !  And  I  had  forgotten  to  take  off  my  glove  ;  would  it  ever 
come  unbuttoned  ?  How  deliberately  we  were  nearing  that  door 
at  the  farther  end  !  And  how  could  I  possibly  have  supposed 
that  my  heart  would  beat  like  this !  It  was  all  very  well  to 
allow  one's  self  a  little  excitement  in  preparation  ;  but  when  it 
came  to  the  actual  event  I  reminded  myself  that  I  had  not  had 
the  slightest  intention  of  being  nervous.  I  called  all  my  demo- 
cratic principles  to  my  assistance — none  of  them  would  come. 
'  Remember,  Mamie  Wick,'  said  I  to  myself,  *  you  don't  believe 
in  queens.'  But  at  that  moment  I  saw  three  Gentlemen  of  the 
Household  bending  over,  and  stretching  out  Lady  Torquilin's 
train  into  an  illimitable  expanse.  I  looked  beyond,  and  there, 
in  the  midst  of  all  her  dazzling  Court,  stood  Queen  Victoria. 
And  Lady  Torquilin  was  bending  over  her  hand  !  And  in 
another  moment  it  would  be — it  was  my  turn !  I  felt  the 
touches  on  my  own  train,  I  heard  somebody  call  a  name  I  had 
a  vague  familiarity  with — *  Miss  Mamie  Wick.'  I  was  launched 
at  last  towards  that  little  black  figure  of  Royalty  with  the  Blue 
Ribbon  crossing  her  breast  and  the  Koh-i-nor  sparkling  there  ! 
Didu^t  you  believe  in  queens.  Miss  Mamie  Wick,  at  that 
moment?     I'm  very  much  afraid  you  did. 

And  all  that  I  remember  after  was  going  down  very 
unsteadily  before  her,  and  just  daring  the  lightest  touch  of  my 
lips  upon  the  gracious  little  hand  she  laid  on  mine.  And  then 
not  getting  nearly  time  enough  to  make  all  of  those  nine  curtseys 
to  the  beautiful  sparkling  people  that  stood  at  the  Queen's  left 
hand,  before  two  more  Gentlemen  of  the  Court  gathered  up  my 
draperies  from  behind  my  feet  and  threw  them  mercifully  over 
my  arm  for  me.  And  one  awful  moment  when  I  couldn't  quite 
tell  whether  I  had  backed  out  of  all  the  Royal  presences  or  not, 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  307 

made  up  my  mind  that  I  had,  then  unmade  it,  and  in  agony  of 
spirit  turned  and  hacked  again ! 

It  was  over  at  last.  I  had  kissed  the  hand  of  the  Queen  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and — there's  no  use  in  trying  to 
believe  anything  to  the  contraiy — I  was  proud  of  it.  Lady 
.Torquilin  and  I  regarded  each  other  in  the  next  room  with  pale 
and  breathless  congratulation,  and  then  turned  with  one  accord 
to  Oddie  Pratte. 

'  On  the  whole,'  said  that  young  gentleman,  blandly,  '  you 
did  rae  credit ! ' 


3oS  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON 


XXX 

T  AM  writing  this  last  chapter  in  the  top  berth  of  a  saloon 
^  cabin  on  board  the  Cunard  s.s.  '  Etruria,'  which  left  Liver- 
pool June  25,  and  is  now  three  days  out.  From  which  it  will 
be  seen  that  I  am  going  home. 

Nothing  has  happened  there,  you  will  be  glad  to  hear, 
perhaps.  Poppa  and  momma,  and  all  the  dear  ones  of  Mrs. 
Portheris's  Christmas  card,  are  quite  in  their  usual  state  of 
health.  The  elections  are  not  on  at  present,  so  there  is  no 
family  depression  in  connection  with  poppa's  political  future.  I 
am  not  running  away  from  the  English  climate  either,  which 
had  begun,  shortly  before  I  left,  to  be  rather  agreeable.  I  have 
been  obliged  to  leave  England  on  account  of  a  Misunder- 
standing. 

In  order  that  you  should  quite  see  that  nobody  was  parti- 
cularly to  blame,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  be  very  explicit, 
which  is  in  a  way  disagreeable.  But  Lady  Torquilin  said  the 
day  I  came  away  that  it  would  have  been  better  if  I  had  been 
explicit  sooner,  and  I  shall  certainly  never  postpone  the  duty 
again.  So  that,  although  I  should  much  prefer  to  let  my 
English  experiences  close  happily  and  gloriously  with  going  to 
Court,  I  feel  compelled  to  add  here,  in  the  contracted  space  at 
my  disposal,  the  true  story  of  how  I  went  to  dine  with  Mr. 
Charles  Mafferton's  father  and  mother  and  brother  and  sisters 
in  Hertford  Street,  Mayfair. 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  309 

It  occurred  almost  as  soon  as  the  family  returned  from  the 
South  of  France,  where  they  had  been  all  spring,  you  remember, 
from  considerations  affecting  the  health  of  the  eldest  Miss 
Mafferton — with  whom  I  had  kept  up,  from  time  to  time,  a  very 
pleasant  correspondence.  One  day,  about  three  weeks  after  the 
Drawing-Room,  when  Lady  Torquilin  and  I  could  scarcely  ever 
rely  upon  an  afternoon  at  home,  we  came  in  to  find  all  the 
Mafferton  cards  again  in.  There  was  a  note,  too,  in  which  Mrs. 
Mafferton  begged  Lady  Torquilin  to  waive  ceremony  and  bring 
me  to  dine  with  them  the  following  evening.  '  You  can  guess,' 
said  Mrs.  Mafferton,  '  how  anxious  we  must  be  to  see  her.'  There 
was  a  postscript  to  the  invitation,  which  said  that  although 
Charlie,  as  we  probably  knew,  was  unfortunately  out  of  town 
for  a  day  or  two,  Mrs  Mafferton  hoped  he  would  be  back  in  the 
course  of  the  evening. 

'  Well,  my  dear,'  said  Lady  Torquilin,  '  it's  easily  seen  that  I 
can't  go,  with  those  Watkins  people  coming  here.  But  you 
shall — I'll  let  you  off  the  Watkinses.  It  isn't  really  fair  to 
the  Maffertons  to  keep  them  waiting  any  longer.  I'll  write  at 
once  and  say  so.  Of  course,'  Lady  Torquilin  went  on,  *  under 
ordinary  circumstances  I  shouldn't  think  of  letting  you  go  out 
to  dinner  alone,  but  in  this  case — there  is  sure  to  be  only  the 
family,  you  know — I  don't  think  it  matters/ 

So  Lady  Torquilin  wrote,  and  when  the  time  came  lent  me 
Charlotte  to  go  with  me  in  a  hansom  to  Hertford  Street,  May- 
fair.  ^  Be  sure  you  bring  me  back  a  full  and  particular  account 
of  how  they  all  behave,  child,'  said  she,  as  she  looked  me  over 
after  my  toilette  was  made  ;  *  I  shall  be  interested  to  hear.' 

A  massive  butler  let  me  into  the  usual  narrow,  high-ceiled 
Mayfair  hall,  richly  lighted  and  luxurious  ;  the  usual  convenient 
maid  in  a  white  cap  appeared  at  the  first  landing  to  show  the  way 


3IO  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

to  the  proper  room  for  my  wraps.  After  Lady  Torquilin's  ex- 
pression of  interest  in  how  they  behaved,  I  had  been  wondering 
whether  the  Maffertons  had  any  idiosyncrasies,  and  I  did  not 
waste  any  unnecessary  time  in  final  touches  before  going  down 
to  see.  I  like  people  with  idiosyncrasies,  and  lately  I  had  been 
growing  accustomed  to  those  of  the  English  nation  ;  as  a  whole 
they  no  longer  struck  me  forcibly.  I  quite  anticipated  some 
fresh  ones,  and  the  opportunity  of  observing  them  closely. 

The  drawing-room  seemed,  as  I  went  in,  to  be  full  of  Maffer- 
tons. There  were  more  Maffertons  than  china  plates  on  the 
wall,  than  patterns  on  the  carpet.  And  yet  there  were  only  the 
four  young  ladies  and  their  mother  and  father.  The  effect  was 
produced,  I  think,  by  the  great  similarity  between  the  Misses 
Mafferton.  Not  in  actual  face  or  figure  ;  there  were  quite  per- 
ceptible differences  there.  The  likeness  lay  in  an  indefinable 
shade  of  manner  and  behaviour,  in  the  subdued  and  unobtrusive 
way  in  which  they  all  got  up  and  looked  at  me  and  at  their 
mamma,  waiting  until  it  should  be  entirely  proper  for  them  to 
come  forward.  They  were  dressed  a  good  deal  alike,  in  low  tones 
of  silk,  high  necked,  rather  wrinkling  at  the  shoulders,  and 
finished  with  lace  frills  at  the  throat  and  wrists,  and  they  all 
wore  their  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  brushed  smoothly  back 
over  their  ears,  and  braided  neatly  across  and  across  behind.  I 
have  never  been  sure  about  their  ages — they  might  have  been 
anything  from  twenty-five  to  forty ;  but  Isabella,  whom  they 
spoke  of  as  the  youngest,  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most  serious 
and  elderly  of  all. 

Mrs.  Mafferton  was  a  very  stout  old  lady,  with  what  is  called 
a  fine  face.  She  wore  a  good  many  old-fashioned  rings,  and  a 
wide  lace  collar  over  her  expansive  black  silk,  and  as  she  came 
heavily  forward  to  meet  me  she  held  out  both  her  hands,  and 


312  AN  AMERICAN  GJRL  IN  LONDON 

beamed  upon  me — not  an  impulsive  beam,  however,  ratlier  a 
beam  with  an  element  of  caution  in  it. 

*  You  are  very  welcome,  Miss  Wick.  Indeed,  we  have  been 
looking  forward  to  this.  I  think  you  ought  to  let  me  give  you 
a  kiss ! ' 

Of  course  I  did  let  Mrs.  Mafferton  give  me  a  kiss — it  was 
impossible  to  refuse.  But  I  thought  myself  singularly  favoured ; 
it  did  not  seem  at  all  in  accordance  with  the  character  of  the 
family  to  fall  upon  the  neck  of  a  stranger  and  embrace  her  by 
way  of  welcoming  her  to  dinner.  I  was  still  further  of  that 
opinion  when  each  of  the  Misses  Mafferton  followed  the  example 
of  their  mamma,  and  saluted  me  tenderly  on  the  same  cheek. 
But  I  immediately  put  it  down  to  be  an  idiosyncrasy.  '  We 
are  so  glad  to  see  you  at  last,'  said  the  eldest.  '  Yes,  indeed  ! ' 
said  the  second.  'We  began  to  think  we  never  should,'  said 
the  third.     '  We  really  did  ! '  said  the  fourth. 

'  Papa,'  said  Mrs.  Mafferton,  '  this  is  Miss  Wick,  of  whom 
we  have  all  heard  so  much.'  She  spoke  very  close  to  the  ear  of 
an  old  gentleman  in  an  arm-chair  screened  from  the  fire,  with 
one  leg  stretched  out  on  a  rest ;  but  he  did  not  understand,  and 
she  had  to  say  it  over  again  :  '  Miss  Wick,  of  whom  we  have  all 
heard  so  much.  Poor  dear !  he  does  not  hear  very  well,'  Mrs. 
Mafferton  added  to  me.  *  You  must  use  the  speaking-trumpet, 
I  fear,  Miss  Wick.'  *  Well,'  said  old  Mr.  Mafferton,  after 
shaking  hands  with  me  and  apologising  for  not  rising,  '  if  this 
is  Miss  Wick,  I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  have  a  kiss  too.'  At 
which  Mrs.  Mafferton  and  all  the  young  ladies  laughed  and  pro- 
tested, *  Oh,  fie,  papa ! '  For  my  part  I  began  to  think  this 
idiosyncrasy  singularly  common  to  the  family. 

Then  the  eldest  ISliss  Mafferton  put  one  end  of  a  long  black 
speaking-trumpet  into  my  hand,  aud  Mr.  Mafferton,  seeing  her 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  313 

do  this,  applied  the  other  to  his  ear.  I  had  nothing  whatever 
to  say,  but,  overcome  with  the  fear  of  seeming  rude,  I  was  raising 
it  to  my  lips  and  thinking  hard  when  I  felt  two  anxious  hands 
upon  my  arm.  '  Do  excuse  us  ! '  exclaimed  a  Miss  MafFerton, 
'  but  if  you  wouldn't  mind  holding  it  just  a  little  farther  from 
your  lips,  please !  We  are  obliged  to  tell  everybody.  Otherwise 
the  voice  makes  quite  a  distressing  noise  in  his  poor  ears.'  At 
which  every  semblance  of  an  idea  left  me  instantly.  Yet  I  must 
say  something — Mr.  Mafferton  was  waiting  at  the  other  end  of 
the  tube.  This  was  the  imbecility  I  gave  expression  to.  *  I 
came  here  in  a  cab  ! '  I  said.  It  was  impossible  to  think  of 
anything  else. 

That  was  not  a  very  propitious  beginping;  and  Mr.  Mafferton's 
further  apology  for  not  being  able  to  take  me  down  to  dinner, 
on  the  ground  that  he  had  to  be  takea  down  by  the  butler 
himself,  did  not  help  matters  in  the  very  least.  At  dinner 
I  sat  upon  Mr.  Mafferton's  right,  with  the  coiling  length 
of  the  speaking-trumpet  between  us.  The  brother  came  in 
just  before  we  went  down — a  thin  young  man  with  a  ragged 
beard,  a  curate.  Of  course,  a  curate  beiug  there,  we  began  with 
a  blessing. 

Then  Mrs.  Mafferton  said.  *  I  hope  you  won't  mind  our  not 
having  asked  any  one  else,  Miss  Wick.  We  were  selfish  enough 
to  want  you,  this  first  evening,  all  to  ourselves.' 

It  was  certainly  the  Mafferton  idiosyncrasy  to  be  extrava- 
gantly kind.  I  returned  that  nothing  could  have  been  more 
delightful  for  me. 

'  Except  that  we  think  that  dear  naughty  Lady  Torquilin 
should  have  come  too  ! '  said  the  youngest  Miss  Mafferton.  It 
began  to  seem  to  me  that  none  of  these  young  ladies  considered 
themselves  entitled  to  au  opinion  in  the  first  person  singular. 


314  A.V  AMERTCAN  CTRL  IN  LONDON 

An  idea  appeared  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  family  product.     ^  She 
was  very  sorry,'  I  said. 

*  And  so,  I  am  sure,  are  we,'  remarked  Mrs.  MafFerton,  gra- 
ciously, from  the  other  end  of  the  table.  '  It  was  through  dear 
Lady  Torquilin,  I  believe,  that  you  first  met  our  son,  Miss 
Wick?' 

I  began  to  feel  profoundly  uncomfortable — I  scarcely  knew 
exactly  why.  It  became  apparent  to  me  that  there  was  something 
in  the  domestic  atmosphere  with  which  I  was  out  of  sympathy. 
I  thought  the  four  Miss  Maffertons  looked  at  me  with  too  much 
interest,  and  I  believed  that  the  curate  was  purposely  distracting 
himself  with  his  soup.  I  corroborated  what  Mrs.  Mafferton  had 
said  rather  awkwardly,  and  caught  one  Miss  Mafferton  looking 
at  another  in  a  way  that  expressed  distinct  sympathy  for  me. 

I  was  quite  relieved  when  Mrs.  Mafferton  changed  the 
subject  by  saying,  '  So  you  are  an  American,  Miss  Wick  ? '  and 
I  was  able  to  tell  her  something  about  Chicago  and  our  methods 
of  railway  travelling.  Mrs.  Mafferton  was  very  pleasant  about 
Americans ;  she  said  she  always  found  them  nice,  kind-hearted 
people.  The  curate  said,  thoughtfully,  crumbling  his  bread,  that 
we  had  a  vast  country  over  there. 

'  Francis ! '  exclaimed  the  Miss  Mafferton  who  sat  next 
to  him,  playfully  abstracting  the  crumbs,  '  you  know  that's 
naughty  of  you !  I'm  afraid  you've  come  to  a  very  nervous 
family.  Miss  Wick. 

I  felt  myself  blushing  abominably.  The  situation  all  at 
once  defined  itself  and  became  terrible.  How  could  I  tell  the 
Maffertons,  assembled  there  around  their  dinner-table,  that  I 
was  not  coming  to  their  family  ! 

*  Burgundy,  miss  ? ' 

How  could  I  do  anything  but  sip  my  claret  with  immoderate 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL   IN  LONDON  315 


EVEN    THEM,   I    REMEMBEli,    HE    LOOKED    A    SEKIOUS    PEKSON.' 


3i6  A  A  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

absorption,  and  say  that  nervous  disorders  did  sometimes  run  in 
families,  or  something  equally  imbecile! 

'  But  Charlie's  nerves  are  as  strong  as  possible ! '  said 
another  Miss  Mafferton,  reproachfully,  to  her  sister. 

We  had  other  general  conversation,  and  I  spoke  into  ]\Ir. 
Mafferton's  trumpet  several  times  with  a  certain  amount  of 
coherence ;  but  I  remember  only  the  points  which  struck  me  as 
of  special  interest  at  the  time.  Among  them  was  the  proposal 
that,  if  I  were  willing,  Mrs.  Mafferton  should  drive  me  on 
Tuesday  week — that  would  be  to-day — to  see  an  invalid  married 
sister  living  in  Hampstead  who  was  most  anxious  to  welcome 
me.     How  could  I  say  I  was  not  willing  ! 

Then,  after  dinner,  in  the  drawing-room,  Mrs.  Mafferton  took 
me  aside  '  for  a  little  chat,'  and  told  me  what  a  good  son  Charles 
had  always  been,  and  showed  me  several  photographs  of  him  at 
earlier  stages,  from  the  time  he  wore  a  sash  and  pinafore.  Even 
then,  I  remember,  he  looked  a  serious  person. 

After  which  I  had  another  little  chat  with  two  of  the  Misses 
^K.fferton  together,  who  explained  what  a  devoted  brother  they 
had  always  had  in  Charlie.  '  We  are  so  glad  you've  been  kind 
to  him,"  they  said,  impulsively.  '  Of  course  we  haven't  seen  him 
yet  since  our  return,  but  his  letters  have  told  us  ihai  much.'  I 
tried  in  vain  to  rack  my  brain  for  occasions  on  which  I  had  been 
kind  to  Mr.  Charles  Mafferton,  and  longed  for  an  attack  of  faiut- 
ness  or  a  severe  headache. 

'  Indeed,'  I  said,  *  it  was  always  your  brother  who  was  kind — 
to  Lady  Torquilin  and  to  me.'  At  which  the  young  ladies 
smiled  consciously,  and  said  something  about  iliai  being  perfectly 
natural.  Then,  just  as  I  was  wondering  whether  I  absolutely 
must  wait  for  Charlotte  to  arrive  in  a  cab  to  take  me  home  as 
Lady  Torquilin  had  arranged,  and  as  the  third  Miss  Mafferton 


'  THE    MISSES   MAFFERTON,    WHO    ACCOMPANIEr    ME,    TURNED    QUITE    PALE.' 


31 8  AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON 

was  telling  me  how  noble  but  how  uninteresting  it  was  of 
Francis  to  take  up  extreme  Ritualistic  views  and  vow  himself  to 
celibacy,  the  door-bell  rang. 

'  There's  Charlie  now  ! '  exclaimed  the  Misses  Mafferton  all 
together. 

'  I  must  really  go  ! '  I  said  precipitately.  'I — I  promised 
Lady  Torquilin  to  be  home  early ' — noting  with  despair  by  the 
gold  clock  under  glass  on  the  mantel  that  it  was  only  a  quarter 
to  ten — *  and  the  Ameiican  mail  goes  out  to-morrow — at  least,  I 
iJiirik  it  does — and — and  (rooc^-night,  Mrs.  Mafferton  !  Good- 
niglit^  Mr.  Mafferton ! '  I  said  it  very  rapidly,  and  although  they 
were  all  kind  enough  to  meet  my  departure  with  protest,  I 
think  it  was  evident  to  them  that  for  some  reason  or  other  I 
really  must  go.  The  young  ladies  exchanged  glances  of  under- 
standing. I  think  their  idea  was  that  I  dreaded  the  embarrass- 
ment of  meeting  Mr.  Charles  Mafferton  before  his  family.  Two 
of  them  came  upstairs  with  me  to  get  my  wraps,  and  assured 
me  in  various  indirect  ways  that  they  quite  understood — it  was 
awkward. 

Coming  down,  we  met  Mr.  Charles  Mafferton  at  the  door  of 
the  drawing-room.  The  Misses  Mafferton,  who  accompanied  me, 
turned  quite  pale  when  they  heard  me  assure  their  brother  that 
there  was  not  the  slightest  necessity  that  he  should  accompany 
me  home.  I  could  not  persuade  him  of  this,  however,  and  we 
drove  away  together. 

I  am  afraid  I  cannot  possibly  report  the  conversation  that 
took  place  between  Mr.  Mafferton  and  myself  in  the  cab.  Look- 
ing back  upon  it,  I  find  it  difficult  to  understand  clearly,  as  I 
dare  say  he  does  if  he  ever  thinks  about  it.  After  I  had  made 
him  see  quite  plainly  that  it  was  utterly,  absolutely  impossible, 
which  was  not  easy,  he  left  me  to  infer  that  I  had  been  incon- 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  319 

sistent,  though  I  am  sure  I  could  make  no  self-accusation  which 
would  be  more  baseless.  Privately,  I  thought  the  inconsistency 
was  his,  and  that  it  was  of  the  most  glaring  description.  1 
am  of  opinion,  with  all  due  respect  to  your  English  customs, 
that  if  Mr.  Mafferton  desired  to  marry  me,  he  should  have  taken 
me,  to  some  extent,  into  his  confidence  about  it.  He  should 
not  have  made  Lady  Torquilin  the  sole  repository  of  the  idea. 
A  single  bunch  of  roses,  or  basket  of  fruit,  or  box  of  candy 
addressed  to  me  Specially,  would  have  been  enough  to  give  my 
thoughts  a  proper  direction  in  the  matter.  Then  I  would  have 
known  what  to  do.  But  I  always  seemed  to  make  an  unavoid- 
able second  in  Mr.  Mafferton's  attentions,  and  accepted  my  share 
of  them  generally  with  an  inward  compunction.  And  I  may  say, 
without  any  malice  at  all,  that  to  guess  of  one's  own  accord  at 
a  developing  sentiment  within  the  breast  of  Mr.  Mafferton  would 
be  an  unlikely  thing  to  occupy  the  liveliest  imagination. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Mafferton  did  not  know  how  his  family  had 
intended  to  behave  to  me.  At  all  events,  he  offered  no  apology 
for  their  conduct.  I  may  say  that  the  only  thing  of  any  con- 
sequence that  resulted  from  our  drive  was  the  resolution  which 
I  am  carrying  out  on  board  the  s.s.  '  Etruria  '  to-day. 

The  ladies'  steward  of  the  '  Etruria,'  a  little  fellow  with  large 
blue  eyes  and  spectacles  and  a  drooping  moustache,  is  very  polite 
and  attentive.  His  devotion,  after  Mr.  Mafferton's,  seems  the 
embodiment  of  romance.  I  shall  hesitate  about  tipping  him. 
He  has  just  brought  me  some  inspiring  beef-tea,  which  accounts 
for  those  asterisks. 

The  worst  of  it  was  Lady  Torquilin's  scolding  next  morning 
— not  that  she  said  anything  unkind,  but  because  it  gave  me  the 
idea  that  1  had  treated  her  badly  too.     I  should  be  so  sorry  to 


320 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL    IN  LONDON 


think  that  1  had  treated  Lady  Torquilin  badly.     She  Feeined  to 
think  that  I  should  have  told  her  in  the  very  beginning  that  I 

was  engaged  to  Mr.  Arthur 
Greenleaf  Page,  of  the  Yale 
University  Staff.  She  seemed 
to  think  that  I  should  have 
told  everybody.  I  don't  see 
why,  especially  as  we  are  not 
to  be  married  until  Christmas, 
and  one  never  can  tell  what 
may  happen.  Young  ladies 
do  not  speak  of  these  things 
quite  so  much  in  America  as 
you  do  in  England,  I  thiuk. 
They  are  not  so  openly  known 
and  discussed.  I  must  apolo- 
gise to  myself  for  bringing  Mr. 
Page  in  even  at  this  stage, 
but  it  seemed  to  be  unavoid- 
able. 

I  don't  know  at  all,  by  the 
way,  what  Arthur  will  say  to 
this    last  of  my 
English    experi- 
ences.    He  may 
not  consider  it  as 
'  formative '      as 
he     hoped      the 
others  would  be. 
There  is  only 
TH£  LADIES'  STEWARD.-  ono    thing    that 


AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  IN  LONDON  321 

makes  the  thought  endurable  for  an  instant  — it  would  have  been 
nice  to  be  related  to  the  Stacys. 

Just  before  sailing  the  purser  supplied  me  with  dear  consola- 
tion in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from  Miss  Peter  Corke.  It  was  a 
'  characteristic  '  letter,  as  we  say  when  we  want  to  say  a  thing 
easily— bewailing,  advising,  sternly  questioning,  comically  repro- 
bating, a  little  sad  and  deprecating  by  accident,  then  rallying  to 
herself  again  with  all  sorts  of  funny  reproaches.  '  I  meant  to 
have  done  so  much,  and  I've  done  so  little  !  '  was  the  burden  of 
it,  recurring  often — '  I  meant  to  have  done  so  much,  and  I've 
done  so  little  ! '  Dear  Peter  !  She  can't  possibly  know  how 
much  she  did  do,  though  I'm  taking  my  unformed  mind  back  to 
a  comparatively  immature  civilisation,  and  shall  probably  con- 
tinue to  attend  a  church  where  they  use  spring-edged  cushions 
and  incandescent  burners.  Peter's  England  will  always  be  the 
true  England  to  me.  I  shall  be  able  to  realise  it  again  easily 
with  some  photographs  and  Hare's  '  Walks  in  London,'  though 
I  am  afraid  I  have  got  all  her  delightful  old  moss-grown  facts 
and  figures  mixed  up  so  that  I  couldn't  write  about  them  over 
again  without  assistance  as  intelligently  as  before.  And  Peter 
says  she  doesn't  mind  going  on  in  my  second  volume,  if  only  I 
won't  print  it ;  which  is  vei-y  good  of  her  when  one  thinks  that 
the  second  volume  will  be  American,  and  never  written  at 
all,  but  only  lived,  very  quietly,  under  the  maples  at  Yale.  I 
hope  she  may  be  found  in  the  last  chnpter  of  that  one  too. 
Dear  Peter  I 


A 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.^S  PUBLICATIONS. 


AN   UNCONVENTIONAL  TRAVEL-BOOK. 

SOCIAL  DEPARTURE:  How  Orthodocia  and 
I  went  Round  the  World  by  Ourselves.  By  Sara  Jeannettb 
Duncan.   With  112  Illustrations.    i2mo,  cloth.    Price,  $1.75 


The  NEW  YORK  HERALD  says  : 

"  This  is  one  of  the  brightest  stories  of  travel  that  ever  came  from  a 
feminine  pen.  .  .  .  It  is  a  cheery,  witty,  decorous,  charming  book— one 
which  should  amuse  some  men  and  delight  many  women." 


The  NEW   YORK  EVENING  POST  says: 

"  Widely  read  and  praised  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific, 
the  diary  is  now  republished  in  New  York,  with  scores  of  illustrations 
which  fit  the  text  exactly  and  show  the  mind  of  artist  and  writer  in 
unison." 

The  BOSTON  DAIL  Y  ADVERTISER  says  • 

"...  It  is  to  be  doubted  whether  another  book  can  be  found  so 
thoroughly  amusing  from  beginning  to  end." 

The  BOSTON  EVENING  TRANSCRIPT  says: 

"  A  very  bright  book  on  a  very  entertaining  subject.  We  commend 
it  to  those  readers  who  abhor  the  ordinary  statistical  book  of  travels." 

The  ST  LOUIS  REPUBLICAN  says: 

"  A  brighter,  merrier,  more  entirely  charming  book  would  be,  indeed, 
difficult  to  find." 

Mrs.  P.  T.  Barnum's  Letter  to  the  NEW  YORK  TRIBUNE  says. 

"  For  sparkling  wit,  irresistibly  contagious  fun,  keen  observation 
absolutely  poetic  appreciation  of  natural  beauty,  and  vivid  descriptive- 
ness,  it  has  no  recent  rival." 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


A  CHARMING  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 


T 


'HE  LIFE  OF  AN  ARTIST.  By  Jules  Breton. 
With  Portrait.  Translated  by  Mrs.  Mary  J.  Serrano. 
i2mo.     Bound  in  cloth,  $1.50. 

' .  .  ,  One  of  those  books  the  success  of  which  is  assured  from  the  first  because 
jt  Its  perfect  naturalness.  .  .  .  The  reader  of  Jules  Breton's  memoir  .  .  .  will  close 
the  book  without  having  experienced  one  misgiving  as  to  its  entire  truthfulness.  From 
the  first  page  to  the  last  his  memoir  will  be  found  not  merely  readable,  but  fascinating, 
and  the  translator  has  very  well  reproduced  his  charms  of  style,  his  beautiful  simplicity, 
and  that  perfume  of  the  love  of  Nature  which  breathes  through  the  book  and  ennobles 
it." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  The  method  and  spirit  .  .  .  are  most  delicate  and  delightful.  .  .  .  Filled  with  the 
poet's  glow  and  the  philosopher's  peace." — New  York  Sun. 

"  One  understands  modem  France  the  better  for  this  autobiography  of  her  highly 
gifted  son." — Boston  Pilot. 

"Jules  Breton,  by  writing  his  autobiography,  has  conferred  a  lasting  favor  on  the 
lovers  of  this  class  of  literature." — Detroit  Journal. 


IV 


IDOW  GUTHRIE.  A  Novel.  By  Richard  Mal- 
colm Johnston.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  Kemble.  i2mo. 
Bound  in  cloth,  $1.50. 


"It  is  understood  that  Colonel  Johnston  regards  ^  Widow  Guthrie'  as  his 
strongest  work." 

"  One  of  the  happiest,  sweetest,  quaintest  novels  that  have  come  from  the  press  in 
along  time  is  'Widow  Guthrie,'  a  vigorous,  breezy,  and  faithful  picture  of  life  in  the 
South  in  the  days  before  the  war.  There  is  no  lack  of  virility,  but  there  is  also  a  re- 
finement which  is  exquisite  because  it  is  genuine,  and  a  humor  which  is  mellow  and 
sweet  because  it  springs  from  a  clean  imagination." — Brooklyn  Standard-Union. 

"It  is  full  of  strong  descriptions  and  curious  and  forcible  character  delineations. 
There  is  remarkable  freshness  in  the  figures  of  the  story.  The  duel  and  the  slaying 
of  Duncan  Guthrie  are  descriptive  masterpieces  " — Nerv  York  Sun. 

"  The  Widow  Guthrie  stands  out  more  boldly  than  any  other  figure  we  know — a 
figure  curiously  compounded  of  cynical  hardness,  blind  love,  and  broken-hearted 
pathos.  ...  A  strong  and  interesting  study  of  Georgia  characteristics  wi^hout  de- 
pending upon  dialect.  There  is  just  sufiicient  mannerism  and  change  of  speech  to 
give  piquancy  to  the  -whoXe."—  Baltimore  Sun. 

"...  Some  remarkably  vivid  portraitures  of  character.  .  .  .  The  book  is  one  that 
will  please  men  as  well  as  women." — Boston  Evening  Gazette. 


New  York:    D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


T 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

''HE  STORY  OF  MY  HOUSE.  By  George  H. 
Ellw ANGER,  author  of  "  The  Garden's  Story."  With  an 
Original  Etching  by  Sidney  L.  Smith.  Also  many  Head  and 
Tail  Pieces,     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

Even  a  more  delightful  book  than  "  The  Garden's  Story."  Though 
seemingly  devoted  to  the  house  proper,  the  essays  are  filled  with  the 
freshness  of  country  life  and  the  beauty  of  external  nature. 


T 


HE  GARDEN'S  STORY;  or,  Pleasures  and 
Trials  of  an  Amateur  Gardener  By  George  H.  Ellw  anger. 
With  Head  and  Tail  Pieces  by  Rhead.     i2mo.     Cloth,  extra, 

$1.50. 

"Mr.  Ellwanger's  instinct  rarely  errs  in  matters  of  taste.  He  writes  out  of  the 
fullness  of  experimental  knowledge,  but  his  knowledge  differs  from  that  of  many  a 
trained  cultivator  in  that  his  skill  in  garden  practice  is  guided  by  a  refined  aesthetic 
sensibility,  and  his  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful  in  nature  is  healthy,  hearty,  and 
catholic.  His  record  of  the  garden  year,  as  we  have  said,  begins  with  the  earliest 
violet,  and  it  follows  the  season  through  until  the  witch-hazel  is  blossoming  on  the 
border  of  the  wintry  woods.  .  .  .  This  little  book  can  not  fail  to  give  pleasure  to  all 
who  take  a  genuine  interest  in  rural  life." — The  Tribune,  New  York. 

'J^HE  FOLK-LORE  OF  PLANTS.     By  t.  F.  This- 
-/        ELTON  Dyer,  M.  A.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  handsome  and  deeply  interesting  volume.   ...   In  all  respects  the  book  is  ex- 
cellent.      Its  arrangement  is  simple  and  intelligible,    its  style  bright  and   alluring. 
.  .  To  all  who  seek  an  introduction  to  one  of  the  most  attractive  branches  of  folk- 
lore, this  delightful  volume  may  be  warmly  commended  "—A^tf^^.y  and  Queries. 


F 


LOWERS  AND  THEIR  PEDIGREES.  By 
Grant  Allen,  author  of  "  Vignettes  of  Nature,"  etc.  Illus- 
trated.    i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"'  No  writer  treats  scientific  subjects  with  so  much  ease  and  charm  of  style  as  Mr. 
Jrant  Allen. 

"  The  study  is  a  delightful  one,  and  the  book  is  fascinating  to  any  one  who  has 
either  love  for  flowers  or  curiosity  about  them." —Hartford  Courant. 


iSTew  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


OUTINGS  AT  ODD  TIMES.  By  Charles  C.  Abbott, 
author  of  "  Days  out  of  Doors  "  and  "  A  Naturalist's  Rambles 
about  Home."     i6mo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

Dr.  Abbott's  delightful  studies  in  Natural  History  have  become 
familiar  to  many  readers,  and  his  new  volume  is  suggestive,  instructive 
and  always  interesting. 


A 


NATURALIST' S RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 
By  Charles  C.  Abbott.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  home  about  which  Dr.  Abbott  rambles  is  clearly  the  haunt  of  fowl  and  fish, 
of  animal  and  insect  life  ;  and  it  is  of  the  habits  and  natuie  of  these  that  he  discourses 
pleasantly  in  this  book.  Summer  and  winter,  morning  and  evening,  he  has  been  in 
the  open  air  all  the  time  on  the  alert  for  some  new  revelation  of  instinct,  or  feeling, 
or  character  on  the  part  of  his  neighbor  creatures.  Most  that  he  sees  and  hears  he 
reports  agreeably  to  us,  as  it  was  no  doubt  delightful  to  himself  Books  like  this, 
which  are  free  from  all  the  technicalities  of  science,  but  yet  lack  little  that  has  scien- 
ifi  value,  are  well  suited  to  tlie  reading  of  the  young.  1  heir  atmosphere  is  a  healthy 
yi     for  boys  in  particular  to  breathe." — Boston  Transcript. 

P\^y^   OUT   OF   DOORS.      By  Charles   C.  Abbott. 
*-^     author  of   "A   Naturalist's   Rambles  about  Home."      i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  *  Days  out  of  Doors '  is  a  series  of  sketches  of  animal  life  by  Charles  C.  Abbott, 
a  naturalist  whose  graceful  writings  have  enteitained  and  instructed  the  public  before 
now.  The  essays  and  narratives  in  this  book  are  grouped  in  twelve  chapters,  named 
after  the  months  of  the  year.  Under  '  January  '  the  author  talks  of  squirrels,  musk- 
rats,  water-snakes,  and  the  predatory  animals  that  withstand  the  rigor  of  winter; 
under  '  February '  of  frogs  and  herons,  crows  and  blackbirds ;  under  '  March  '  of  gulls 
and  fishes  and  foxy  sparrows,  and  so  on  appropriately,  instructively,  and  divertingly 
through  the  whole  twelve." — The  New  York  Sun. 


T 


HE  PLAYTIME  NATURALIST.  By  Dr.  j.  E 
Taylor,  F.  L.  S.,  editor  of  "  Science  Gossip."  With  366  Illu  - 
trations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  work  contains  abundant  evidence  of  the  author's  knowledge  and  enthusiasm, 
and  any  boy  who  may  read  it  carefully  is  sure  to  find  something  to  attract  him.  The 
style  is  clear  and  lively,  and  there  are  many  good  illustrations." — Nature. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON   &   CO.,    i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


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